


Silken Ties

by Miss_sunfire



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Darcy Lewis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BDSM, Come Marking, Embarrassment, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knifeplay, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Natasha Romanov, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pack Dynamics, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_sunfire/pseuds/Miss_sunfire
Summary: Darcy’s far from your typical alpha. Sure, she has that whole, protective mother hen feeding the baby scientists thing down pretty well. Sure, she’ll tase a bitch who wrongs her people. Sure, she’s brash and  sarcastic and calling you out to your face if she thinks your an idiot.But, she’s never really seen the point of all that posturing, growling, preening and showing off. She’d much rather just get her work done and go home thank you very much. Predictably, that makes finding a date a bit difficult but NBD.Natasha’s far from your typical omega. Sure, she cares deeply for her chosen family’s happiness. Sure, she can go distinctly momma bear when her friends are threatened. Sure, she can play the part of the simpering submissive dream if she wants.But, she’s a goddamn super spy and soldier. Every alpha she meets is either afraid of her or wants to break her. She’s just done with all the macho posturing bullshit. Fuck dating, who needs it.Guess what happens when they get dragged out to Tony’s charity gala, full of prospective mates? And guess what happens when everybody has more secrets than people think?(Kinky, poly shenanigans is what)





	1. Hookups

**Author's Note:**

> I had a plot bunny. It needed to run free!

Darcy let out a long suffering sigh as she took a moment to slouch in her stool by the expensive crystal bar. She took a few careful sips of the beer she’d been nursing for the last hour. The excited titterings of high society around her grew louder and brasher as the night went on. Alphas around the room were posturing, growling and trying to stake not-so-subtle claims on the increasingly inebriated omegas and betas sauntering about.

Come to Toni’s charity gala they said, it’ll be fun they said, all the avengers and CO need to be there they said, you need to get out and meet people they said, there’ll be tons of cute omegas about they said. Darcy let out a silent scoff, resolving to tell Jane and Thor that well meaning as they might be, trying to get her out of the office, they were full of shit.

I mean honestly, she thought. Who gets the idea that the way to hit on her is to drunkenly fall to one’s knees in the middle of a public party, baring one’s throat and begging an alpha to knot them? I mean seriously, what the hell? She felt like a unicorn in a herd of mustangs. Do other alphas seriously find that shit attractive? The young alpha woman just found it...impersonal and presumptive.

Which is not even to mention how little the omegas at the party seem to think of her hearing and perceptiveness. I mean, what the fuck? Could that one group of rich omega girls have been any louder? They were joking right beside her about how Darcy “knew Thor and Jane” and “maybe if we take pity on that poor little alpha and take her to bed we’ll get to meet her packmates?” That just seriously pissed the her off, and she had to bite back a growl when one of the offending party goers approached her a few minutes later.

Well whatever, Darcy thought. Sure, she may have promised Jane she wouldn’t be working tonight, but the party was a major bust already. The alpha figured she might as well get _something_ done at this train-wreck.

The young woman craned her neck around, scoping out the party. Predictably she could see the Avengers table remained surrounded by a flock of admirers, so she wasn’t even going to bother trying to talk to them.

Walking a quick circle around the room, she was however able to see a bunch of familiar faces. Plastering a pleasant-but-not-entirely-real smile on her face she walked over to a not-entirely-plastered looking alpha. She knew the man was a prominent textiles supplier. The alpha went about introducing herself and trying to secure herself a deal on luxury Cashmere and Silk.

*******************************

Natasha suppressed an annoyed growl as she subtly dodged around a outstretched groping hand that was darting for her ass. The omega woman picked up her pace,angling towards the washroom with determination in her bearing. A wave of cloying spicy scent crashed over her as the alpha chased after her. The scent of alcohol on his breath wafted past her sensitive nose as the fool grabbed her arm and spun her around to face her.

“Heys, where you goin, sweet...sweet-cheeks? I’m...I’m talkingz to yous.” The cretin drunkenly slurred out as his pheromones washed over her. Only her advanced training prevented her from gagging viciously at the disgusting wash of scent, alcohol and sweat of the man. He’d clearly been drinking heavily with his buddies to even make the attempt at hitting on the Black Widow. What with her...less than cuddly reputation.

“Away.” The spy curtly replied, turning to leave before he squeezed her arm and pulled her back once more. With barely a thought she caught his gaze, filling her eyes with utter contempt, disinterest and barely repressed violence.

Intimidated the alpha took a step back, before his liquid courage had his hackles rising. He growled and postured, towering above her and caging her body against the wall by the washroom. “Oi, little firecracker we got here don’t we. Youze jus need a real alpha to give yous a prop-proper knot. Put you in your plaze.” The man grumbled out, leering directly at her cleavage and pointing a fat finger in her face.

Internally debating the PR damage to the Avengers if she were to break a major donors’ arm at a Stark Industries event, she almost missed the subtle scent of spiced pumpkin approaching. She watched as a feminine hand snaked around from behind him and shoved a taser under the alpha’s suit jacket. A harsh crackling sound let out as the man groaned and spasmed. The other alpha stepped under his armpit to support his collapsing weight. She half dragged him over to a nearby seat before giving him a second zap to render him fully unconscious.

Natasha cursed under her breath, knowing that an agitated white knight alpha would probably be even more entitled and grabby than the original offender. She took in the back of the woman, doing a quick threat assessment. The spy’s sharp eyes noted the nice stitching on the suit jacket and tight pencil skirt, high quality fabric, designer stilettos, matching expensive jewelry and gold wallet chain dangling from her belt to her to her suit pocket. The outfit hugged the woman’s very ample curves like a glove. It was unlikely she could buy something as well fitted off the rack, indicating it was custom tailored. Crap, a privileged entitled asshole for her to deal with, she thought as the woman turned around to face her.

The spy barely restrained a confused and surprised gasp when she took in the front of the very appealing ensemble. The jacket was left open, showcasing a tightly fitted corset vest and open blouse. The more traditional black of the suit being offset by bold shades of crimson red and gold accents. Natasha cast her eyes upward, subtly licking her lips as she noted the swell of the woman's cleavage, heavy and practically popping out of her shirt. A heavy metal choker with an undone lock was around her throat, red claiming bite marking her creamy white skin on display underneath. The outfit was...confusing. It spoke of both traditional alpha dominance, yet elegantly blended in aspects of submissive omega attire. The omega found the mix exotic and...surprisingly appealing.

A polite cough brought her attention to the alpha’s face. Natasha’s cheeks threatened to pink as she berated herself for getting distracted ogling her adversary. However, her eyes boggled as she recognized the face. It was done up with sweeping glittery eyeshadow, luscious red lipstick and surrounded by elegantly pampered curls of long black hair spilling down her shoulders.

“Darcy?!” The spy said with an incredulous quirk of her eyebrow.

The alpha woman in front of Natasha shuffled awkwardly. Pink tinged her cheeks as her eyes dipped and darted round the spy. The alpha was very pointedly trying (and failing) not to stare at the ample curve of Natasha bosom in her tight black dress. The lab assistants scent of spiced pumpkin richened with lust, growing more insistent and sweet. The growing force of the scent bowled into Nat as it started seeping into the corner of the room.

Natasha got a sense vision of walking through crunching leaves in the fall, vivid yellows and oranges everywhere. The widow felt the ghost of warm hands clasped together and the taste of warm mulled wine or spiced hot chocolate. The spy’s mouth watered and her eyes dilated as her body responded to the attraction. She realized that Darcy must have been intentionally controlling and limiting her scent for all the months since she’d arrived at the tower.

“Uhhh, H-hi Nat. Look, I know you coulda dealt with him, but I just thought, might as well give you a break. Plus, it wouldn’t look as bad on the Avengers if it’s just a lab assistant tasing a drunk donor. So you know...” The alpha trailed off, her scent filling with an embarrassment Natasha found distinctly endearing. “Look, anyway, no big deal. I kinda got distracted and have a few...things to do still. I’ll see you at the after party yeah?”

Natasha, stunned, merely gave the alpha a hesitant nod of her head before Darcy spun on her heel and moved off into the party. Her brain just could not connect the dots between the Darcy she knew and the alpha she just saw. Darcy was a...pleasant presence in the tower. The alpha cooked delicious meals,organized movie nights, took care of the scientist flock, made Clint smile with her horrible jokes and talked with Steve and Bucky on their bad days...but she was not whatever that just was.

Sure, the Darcy Natasha knew was attractive. Her scent had always been inoffensive and pleasant. Her gorgeous breasts were larger than any alpha Natasha had ever seen. Large, even for an omega. However, that was all covered up in deep layers of ratty knitted cardigans, scarves, sweaters and hats. Everything she wore looked like an old handmade hand-me-downs, and she rarely ever wore makeup. Plus, Darcy, as a rule, avoided the all to frequent confrontation and posturing among the other alphas of the tower. The omega had never seen her actually use her famed taser, not even once, despite Steve and Tony snapping at her at least once every month.

The Darcy she knew was not some spoiled rich girl kitted out in the latest expertly combined haute couture. She was not some overprotective white knight jumping in front of posturing alpha knotheads. She was not, for lack of a better term...hot. Like, scorching hot. Lick the dripping sweat off curvaceous bouncing tits hot. She was not, practically a goddess of beauty and sex. Natasha hummed to herself, amused.

Curious. Target requires investigation.

*****************************************************  
A few hours later found Natasha in a much smaller room back at the tower with a much more low key and intimate atmosphere. The crowd consisted mainly of avengers and assorted close friends. Steve and Bucky had abandoned their suit jackets and were cuddling in a quiet corner with Sharon. Wanda and Vision were having Clint help them try a series of fancy cocktails at the bar. Rhodey and Sam were laughing quietly while Tony, Bruce and Pepper flirted and joked. Natasha could see the pack of Thor, Jane and Darcy talking animatedly over on one of the couches.

The widow was just pushing past Tony’s group to get another drink when the billionaire noticed her and flagged her over.

“Hey, itsy bitsy! How’d you like the party? Actually manage to find an alpha you didn’t make piss his pants yet? We made sure to have a bunch of strong ones on the guest list for you.” The playboy alpha joked, wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

“Tony, have some class you loon.” Pepper, ever the wiser head, chastised as she slapped him hard on the arm. “He’s being a knothead. We didn’t actually spend any effort into doing any matchmaking. Ignore him.” The beta said, turning to Natasha.

“Hey! I resemble that! You gotta admit though, she’s a little intimidating. Any alpha would reasonably be worried about having her paralyzing him with her venom before cracking open his skull to get at the juicy meat within!” The genius yelped with a indignant squak.

The spy merely gave the man an unnervingly unamused quirk of her brow. “The party was fine. Depressingly normal, thanks for asking.” She said with a hint of a smirk. “The venom’s not actually a paralytic by the way. It’s necrotic so I can drink the liquefied remains of their organs. Way tastier than raw brains.” The widow deadpanned as she walked away the group.

Natasha let a smirk cross her lips as she heard Tony’s indignant “Wait, was she joking? I honestly can’t quite tell. See what I mean?” over her shoulder. Scanning the room she walked over to investigate her new quarry, currently chatting with Jane.

“I-I-I can’t believe you!! We specifically invited you tonight so you’d STOP. FREAKING. WORKING. You promised us you would get out and socialize girl. Chat up at least a few cute omegas. Not spend half the evening negotiating with fucking suppliers. We’re disappointed in you. Give her the sad puppy eyes thor-baby.” The astrophysicist ranted. The tiny alpha bristled, almost growling, looking amusingly like a pissed off wolverine.

“Nooooo, not the sad puppy eyes Jane. That should be against the geneva convention. OH GOD, STOP!!!! Uncle! Uncle! I give! I’m sorry! Jesus fucking christ on a bike with a strapon Janey. That is sooooo not fair. It’s like watching bambi and old yeller all at once.” Darcy replied with a pained groan, dropping her face to her hands.

Taking a few seconds to compose herself the woman replied more seriously. “Look, you know I love you and I really tried. Really, I just wasn’t having any luck. Half of the omegas there only gave me the time of day because they wanted to get to you and Thor. So yeah, I did some work rather than waste the entire evening. Sue me.” The assistant grumbled as she took a swig of her drink.

Widow watched with a amused grin as Jane’s hackles started to rise for another verbal lashing of the bustier woman. However, Jane’s rant was interrupted by Thor spotting her hovering beside them and giving out a happy shout.

“Ah, lady Natasha! Good to see you at this fine feast! What brings you to our table?” The god asked with a broad grin cracking his lips.

Natasha’s smirk only widened mischievously. “Oh nothing much. Just wanted to have a chat with your very lovely assistant there and...thank her more properly for her assistance earlier. You know, if you could spare her for a few minutes.” The omega murmured huskily. The assistant in question blushed an adorable beet red, while a happy grin lit up Thor’s face.

“Oh no! Not at all! It’s not trouble at all! By all means, Thor and I we’ll just… we’ll just go...go cuddle in the spare room on our floor. You know, if you wanted to grab coffee or something in the main kitchen. Or whatever really. Have fun!!” Jane said with a happy squak, pulling Thor up off the couch and practically speeding out of the room.

As she left the astrophysicist flashed Darcy a threatening glare and pointed finger as if to say “Fuck this up, I fucking dare you! I will end you!” Darcy squeaked, showing her palms in submission, causing the spy to chuckle softly.

Natasha sidled down onto the couch with a provocative sway of her hips and sat right next to the alpha woman. Darcy blushed adorably, shifting in her seat as their legs touched. The spy decided the direct approach would probably disarm her target effectively.

“So...that’s a bit of a different outfit from what I see you wearing around the tower? It suits you. Very well.” The widow purred sultrily with a questioning quirk of her brow.

Darcy squeaked, blushing yet deeper. Her scent richened with lust once more making Natasha’s head start to swim just a little. When the alpha tried to raise her gaze Natasha simply met it with a intent stare. The widow let out a soft purr watching her quarry take a deep gulp before crossing her legs. Trying to hide an arousal response she guessed.

To her credit the alpha woman did not leer overly, or press the charged atmosphere with excessive posturing or growling. Darcy shakily met her gaze but managed to keep her voice steady and respectful. “Well, it’s not like you all wear your tac suits to sunday brunch. It’s pretty similar for me. If I need to don my suit of armor for work I will. I prefer the comfort of soft well worn clothes and the scents of family when I’m just at home though.” The alpha explained.

Natasha felt a surprisingly genuine grin split her face. “Armor, Huh. That’s a surprisingly apt comparison. I do something similar for my undercover work. Only let them see what you want them to. Do you need to don yonder suit of custom fitted designer armor often in your work as Jane’s lab assistant?” The omega queried with a knowing smirk.

Darcy looked very surprised and her body language got more defensive and hunched in on herself. Natasha was just wondering if she’d pushed too far when the alpha broke her silence. “No, not really. I’m surprised it’s not in my old SHIELD file, or that you haven’t read the files of everyone on the team.”

“Well, I did read all the files, just in case. I’m very sad to say that yours was sparse on details though. The agents did a minor background check before writing you off as low overall threat. No criminal record, spent some time in foster care, average grades and intelligence, very low alpha dominance, limited financial and social resources. You were cleared and dismissed from surveillance shortly afterward.” The spy responded.

Darcy started snorting and chortling with mirth. Natasha found the slight crinkling of her nose surprisingly fascinating. “Wow. I mean, just wow. I’m just so amused even the jack booted thugs can make mistakes like that. God, the knotheads of the world are just so adorable aren’t they.” The alpha managed to explain once she could breath a bit better. A knowing smirk spread across Natasha's face, even as she raised a brow, waiting for Darcy to explain further.

“In answer to your question, the clothes aren’t for being Jane’s assistant. In my secret second life I’m actually a tailor and designer. Gotta dress your best or your clients will scoff down their snooty noses at you. Everything I’m wearing was handmade by me a couple years ago.” The woman continued with a challenging quirk of her brow.

Natasha hummed and nodded in approval. “Well, it certainly shows of your...assets quite well my dear.” The widow said with a low rumble in her throat. The omega very consciously relaxed her iron control a bit, letting the scent of her growing arousal waft to the alpha.

Darcy blushed once more, smoothing the fabric of her skirt absentmindedly. Natasha took great amusement in watching the woman visibly push down nerves, relax her muscles and gather herself up. Natasha felt a surprising flutter in her stomach at the frank adorableness of the gesture.

“So, forgive me if I’m entirely misreading the situation here...but would you be interested in maybe coming back to my place. We could continue this discussion in a bit more...intimate setting? Jane has so helpfully given most of the floor for our privacy?” Darcy asked, casting her voice low and sultry. The woman's scent was intent and lusty but restrained to not be overwhelming.

Natasha gave a deep rumbling purr from the back of her throat. A little like an amused jaguar batting it’s prey around playfully.

“Yes, lets.”

**************************************  
Darcy felt the roiling flutter of a million butterflies churning her gut as she stepped onto the elevator with Natasha. The iconic spy was not only gracious enough to have a private conversation with her of all people...but unless she was entirely misreading the situation, there was a whole lot more about to happen.

The alpha angled her body slightly away from her and spent a copious amount of effort trying to walk without hunching over (not that she was really that successful, but hey, she’s a considerate bitch like that). Try as she might, her clit was doing backflips in celebration of the current situation. That fucking asshole had been making her panties uncomfortably tight for the last 10 minutes. It was all she could do to pray she wasn’t visibly soaking through her skirt as they got onto the elevator.

The elevator doors closed and suddenly she was aware she was in a very, very enclosed space with the fucking black widow. The woman’s normally restrained scent rapidly soaked the room. Darcy could practically taste the lusty sweet spiciness of it on her tongue. Oddly reminding her of childhood memories of her Nana’s pfeffernusse dipped in lovely dark coffee. Normally not one for showing off, she couldn’t help the pleased and aroused rumble echoing at the back of her throat.

Nat (she asked herself when she started to think of the deadly spy with pet names again?) gave her a shit eating grin at that. Darcy felt herself stiffen and gulp audibly when the woman turned to face her directly, staring intently at her face. Darcy felt her face steam as the omega paced forward, boxing her into the corner of the elevator. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the passing of the romantic city skyline through the glass walls. Her knees trembled at the mounting tension in the air.

Ever so slowly Nat raised a gentle finger to cup Darcy’s cheek. She leaned into the contact, purring as she stared into the woman’s sparkling green orbs. A breathy sigh passed the spy’s lips and they quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. The tension mounted and Darcy tried and failed to find something to say.

“Malyshka...I would very much like to kiss you.” The widow softly purred, running a finger softly along Darcy’s cheek.

Right, well, that’s it. I’m dreaming. I’ve gone to heaven. Pack it up, go home, you’re drunk, she thought. Darcy tried to speak, to respond, but a broken whimper was all that passed her lips. Another burst of scent from the widow made the alpha’s head fuzz happily. Making another conscious attempt to speak she managed a husky “God yes Nat” before nuzzling deeper into her hands.

The omega gave a receptive but oddly possessive growl before curling manicured fingers into Darcy’s hair and pulling her in close. Darcy felt a faint tug on her hair from the harsh grip but warmth suffused her as their soft lips pressed together. The smaller alpha woman found her lips parting as the widow swiped her tongue gently into her mouth and over her lips. Darcy moaned happily and slid her hands around Nat’s hips.

Suddenly the assistant found the hand removed from her head, instead cupping her ass. The stronger woman stepped forward, lifting her up to press against the wall. Nat’s thigh pressed forward, riding Darcy’s skirt up. Her clit gave a happy twitch, now achingly hard and dripping happily as the alpha woman ground her crotch against Nat’s thigh. The spy gave a rumbling growl that caused her insides to melt. Darcy nuzzled her face into Nat’s neck to smell her scent more closely. A wantonly wrecked “Fuuuuck” was her only comment as the spy kissed her hair.

Jarvis, the horrible cockblocker that he was, chose that fucking moment to announce that they’d reached Darcy’s floor. Darcy groaned, but quickly found herself being dragged off the elevator in a twirling whirlwind of lips and teeth. Soft sighs and breathy moans echoed through the front hall before Darcy found her rear pressed up against the kitchen counter.

The alpha pulled together all her courage to once more look into those lovely green eyes, now blown wide with lust. “N-Nat...would you give me the honour of eating you out?” She asked, mostly suppressing the nervous tremor in her voice.

Natasha purred even as she slid a hand under her dress to drag a sexy set of black lace panties to the floor. The spy slid her lovely ass up onto the counter, spreading her legs. “Yes, malyshka. That would be wonderful.” The omega murmured.

Darcy’s face lit up with a happy grin as she fell to her knees. Coming close, Nat wrapped her creamy thighs around Darcy’s shoulders to pull her in. The spy’s stiletto heels pressing her forwards urgently. A loud and pleased rumble echoed from the back of Darcy’s throat. This was always her vastly favorite part of sex. She loved, beyond all else, the breathy moans and sighs that sexy ladies made as she licked down their thighs and over their hot cores. The alpha made a point of practicing whenever she could...and she knew she was damn good at it.

The sweet scent of slick arousal from the omega woman pressed into Darcy’s senses. Still, she resisted the urge to lunge straight for the goal post too fast. Darcy started pressing a series of gentle kisses along Nat’s thighs. Accentuating them with little kitten nips and licks that made the woman give her a lovely pleased sigh.

Emboldened, she bit a little harder before giving the woman’s cunt a single teasing lap. Darcy grinned happily as she heard the beginnings of a moan be bit back by the spy. Settling for being a teasing little shit, she then ignored the woman’s sex to nibble on Nat’s other thigh. One of Darcy’s fingers slid upward, gently passing along the side of Nat’s dress. Eventually her fingers passed over Nat’s bosom, popping into her bra to gently tease a hard nipple.

The alpha smirked when she got the freaking black widow to give her a frustrated lusty growl. One of the omega’s heels pressed painfully into a pressure point on her shoulder. Darcy huffed an amused laugh even as she moved forward to her place of worship.

The lab assistant started pressing gentle kisses and tentative kitten licks all around Nat’s labia. The spy’s frustrated growl turned pleased as Darcy circled closer and closer to the woman’s engorged clit. Darcy felt the muscles In Nat’s legs tense sexily as she softly suckled the woman’s sensitive nub. Still being a teasing little shit though, she broke it off to lap more around the less sensitive areas of her cunt. The alpha grinned against Nat’s sex as the woman kicked her with the back of a heel.

Deciding she’d had enough of playing with fire, she let all thoughts but pleasing the woman in front of her float off into the ether. Darcy suckled, licked and kicked in slowly increasing tempo. She read the tensing of the spy’s muscles, bit back moans and soft sighs to slowly, ever so slowly build the tension up and up. Darcy slowed for a brief moment when Nat’s breath was coming in hot panting bursts and her legs were quivering, just on the edge of orgasm. She prolonged the moment in delicious torture as Natasha growled and grumbled above her.

Finally, Darcy decided enough was enough. The alpha clamped her mouth around Natasha’s clit, suckling and swirling her tongue around the sensitive flesh. The sultry moan the spy had been repressing finally ripped from her throat as the woman started convulsing and thrashing. Hot spurts of girl cum splashed over Darcy’s face, soaking her hair and dripping down her neckline. She let off the womans clit to swallow a few fast gulps of the delicious nectar. Not done though, she quickly went right back to suckling Nat’s clit as the spy started cooling down. The spy’s body shook with a second orgasm as yet more cum coated the assistant. She hummed in utter bliss.

Long moments passed as Darcy sat back on her haunches. An amazed grin lighting up her face as drops of cum ran down her chin. She purred and breathed the intoxicating scent of Natasha’s lust. The spy for her part needed several long minutes to calm her breathing from the intense orgasm.

“Malyshka...that was...that was very nice, but you are a fucking teasing otrod'ye. Maybe I shouldn’t even let you fuck me for that huh? Just leave that hard fucking clit aching and lonely?” The spy grumbled out jokingly.

Darcy felt like she’d just been kicked in the gut and felt her crotch clench painfully. She was aware her scent burst with an intense pulse of lust and blushed an embarrassed scarlet. Despite her debauched position she found it hard to maintain eye contact with the other woman, still perched on the counter.

A confused expression passed the spy’s face before something behind her eyes seemed to click. The woman smirked in mischievous glee. “Oh my. Malyshka? Perhaps you would even actually prefer that? What would you do if I told you to whip that little fucking knot of yours out and spill your useless seed over the floor for me?” The spy huskily purred.

Darcy felt herself let out an embarrassing squeak. She tried to speak, but only succeeded in vocalizing a series of awkward ums and ahs. Trembling, she reached a tentative decision even as she saw a nervous twitch pass the spy’s eyebrow. Clearly wondering if she had misread.

The alpha carefully and quickly pulled her tented skirt down her ass before throwing it across the kitchen. Her red silk panties followed shortly after, her hard and girthy 7 inch length bobbing free. A weeping tear of pre-cum dripped from her clit’s opening. Her hands shook and she visibly gulped as she passed a calloused palm over the head. “Uh, uhm...hnnng. Uh, that would...that would be...really...kinda, a little...hot? You know, if you were to order me to do that, if you wanted, I mean you don’t have to...” The alpha nervously rambled.

Nat cackled as she slid off the counter. She leaned down to the kneeling woman, pulling her chin up and forcing the alpha to stare her in the eye. Her other arm snaked down to possessively squeeze Darcy’s clit and tug at her balls for a second. The alpha groaned at the contact and her clit spurt a glob of precum over the floor.

“You have two minutes malyshka. If you have not cum by then, you won’t get another chance until morning.” The spy ordered with a harsh glare.

“Yes ma’am.” The alpha responded, even as she sprung into action and started roughly pumping her aching length. Natasha hovered over her, idly passing a finger over her own crotch as she stared on hungrily. Darcy gave a wanton moan and squirmed as the tension built in her member. Her legs started trembling with effort as her brain thought of nothing but trying to get sweet release as soon as possible. She couldn’t spare a thought for the timer, nothing else mattered in that moment.

Darcy felt herself cresting the edge. She was so very, very close when she felt a set of soft hands grab her wrists and pull them away to pin against a table behind her. The alpha whined dejectedly as her clit bounced and clenched with frustrated need. Her hips uselessly pumped forward as she tried to find some sort of stimulation.

Nat growled to accent her point before digging a heel into the soft flesh of Darcy’s upper thigh. The alpha squealed in pain, but the confusing sensation was just barely enough to push her over the edge. Her body shuddered and shook as she came. Jets of cum splashed over the tile of the floor as she moaned in a haze of pleasure and pain. The orgasm was honestly painful, her desperate clit wanting for more stimulation to be fully satisfied. As it subsided she mewled at the much less than satisfied ache in her twitching member.

Darcy’s eyes misted as she caught her breath and caught Natasha’s gaze. The spy had a stunned and pleased expression on her face. Darcy mewled and pouted a bit, but started purring as the other woman's fingers scratched through her cum soaked hair. “That was...very hot to watch Darcy. Thank you for showing me malyshka.” The spy cooed.

Darcy gave her a contented sigh as she nuzzled her head into the omegas scratching hands. Eventually the alpha looked up, her eyes open and vulnerable. “Nat...would you...stay the night with me?” She asked, plaintively.

Natasha gave another pleased purr as she nodded the affirmative. Darcy found herself pulled to shaky legs as the woman dragged her towards Darcy’s bedroom. They slid under the covers fully clothed and exhausted. Her eyes were fluttering shut within seconds as she softly heard Natasha grumble.

“You still managed to cum after the time limit though. So expect consequences for next time.” The widow huffed.

Darcy giggled and gave her a happy kiss on the cheek. She cuddled close as she buried her face in the widows neck, sighing happily as she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> malyshka - dear or baby  
> otrod'ye - brat  
> pfeffernusse - German cookies. Essentially like very small bite sized cinnamon biscotti you would dunk in coffee. Usually made for major holidays.


	2. Mission Accepterd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, decisions are made. Freakouts are had. Things are planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le gasp: No sex in this chapter (well, not really any onscreen sex at least).
> 
> So, yeah, there is actually gonna be a plot, with like characters and growth and all that jazz. But at the same time I'm trying to keep chapter size manageable/bite sized. Measureably get something done and posted rather than get overwhelmed trying to fit the "real chapter" in my head that's like an overwhelming 15k words that I'll procrastinate super hard on.
> 
> So yeah, not necessarily sex in every chapter. It'll be where it makes sense.

***********************************************

Love is for children. This, Natasha knows, is a fundamental truth. An axiom of the world. It’s truth carved deep in her bones by long experience at the hands of her trainers and the twisting vagaries of this uncaring planet. Natasha is no child and she’s honestly not sure if she ever was. The spy has never been able to decide how she feels about that. If it’s a problem or simply a circumstance all adults must live with.

But, she knows, it is far from the only truth in this world. 

She knows there is no divine plan, no valkyrie on a white pegasus to carry her to valhalla. That all she has is this one life to make of what she can. 

She knows life is short, brutal and bloody. That every second wasted is a second closer to the inexorable visit of the reaper. Another chance for a lucky shot to claim her life. Another chance for a trap to finally be too much for her. 

She knows nothing comes for free.

She knows that if you want something you have to fight for it. If you don’t fight, whatever you want will be taken away. That when you want something you must fight and you must use every weapon at your disposal. You bite, you claw, you punch, you kick and scream with every last ounce of your breath. 

...and she wants...oh, the assassin wants very much. The years at SHIELD and with the Avengers have been good to her, helped her open up and realize more of what she feels. That’s been both a blessing and a curse. Somehow, the assassin has made real, genuine friends. Ones she knows will always have her back. That she can never truly pay back. That make the dark places inside her feel a bit less all consuming. 

...But every step towards growth and healing only shines a greater spotlight on that want, that burning unsatisfied need. That...loneliness...she’s never been able to quite fulfill. 

So, her decision that morning when she finds herself...content and surrounded by warmth and dawning light is a quick one. There is no hesitation or second guessing, just certainty. The decision might surprise Tony or Vision or any of the others who know  _ of _ her, but don’t truly know the core of her. Not like Clint. Not like Phil. Not like Steve. Not like Yasha. 

As she’s slipping out of Darcy’s bed and padding to the gym for early morning training she interanlly accepts her new mission parameters. The omega starts to plan.

She’s the Black Widow. She shapes the world, it does not shape her. When she wants something, she damn well takes it. 

...and she wants this alpha.  _ Her _ alpha.  _ Her _ adorable, gregarious, beautiful, nervous dork of an alpha. 

She wants Darcy Lewis, and she damn well intends to have her. 

********************************************

Darcy slowly curls upwards into contented wakefulness. She Stretches out through the wonderfully soft silk sheets Tony bought for all the suites in the tower. The alpha takes a deep breath, her brain pleasantly foggy as her nostrils fill with Natasha’s lingering sweet scent. Some part of her still forces her eyes to scan the room quickly, but it’s half hearted. Darcy feels safe. It’s nice. 

Sitting up, she fumbles around her bedside table for her glasses. The alpha notices the time is late, around 10am on the Saturday after the party. Darcy grumbles briefly that Natasha snuck out before she woke up, but it’s half hearted. She suspects former soviet assassins aren’t known for sleeping in, even under the best of circumstances. 

The woman is starting to swing herself out of bed in search of breakfast and coffee (not necessarily in that order) when she spies something she missed on her bedside table. An elegant, red and black plated flip knife lies propped against her lamp. A small note is lodged in it’s belt clip. 

_ “Have training. Would be pleased if you did not use soap when you shower. Be in parking garage at 6 tonight. - Tasha” _

The alpha’s heart starts hammering with nervous energy as she reads Tasha’s note. There’s just...so many things. All the things. Important things, big things. 

Thing 1: Tasha cared enough to leave a note so I wouldn’t wonder where she was. Dawwwwwww.

Thing 2: If the omega’s requesting she not use soap...that means she’s staking a claim. Asking Darcy to accept her...passionate...scent mark. (Her clit is  _ very _ much in favor of smelling like Natasha’s cum all day, thank you very much!)

Thing 3: The guarded ex-soviet super spy just subtly let her know what pet name she prefers. Dawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Thing 4: The spy could have just left the note and not the  _ very _ pretty knife. Frankly the sleek red curve of the handle and the smooth obsidian-black blade is dead sexy. Do omega’s give courting gifts? For that matter, do super-spy’s give courting gifts? Self defence tools seem like a very spy like courting gift. Don’t they? Kinda like a cat bringing their human a baby bird; trying to help teach them to hunt? Dawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Thing 5: HOLY SHITBALLS I HAVE A MAYBE DATE TONIGHT WITH THE FUCKING BLACK WIDOW!!!!!!!! (Her clit is practically doing backflips and handstands at that wonderful idea, goddamn, is it hot in here or just Darcy?)

Predictably, Darcy’s brain short circuits for approximately 15 minutes because all the things. It slowly starts to function again approximately a minute after she collapses onto her face, quivering with a powerful orgasm. “Guhhhhhhh” she moans as her dripping clit idly rutts against the wonderfully Natasha scented sheets, running on pure instinct.

Still though, life must go on. So, 20 minutes after waking up she slowly stands up on shaky legs and drags her body into the bathroom. Stripping off last night's clothes, she wipes away her makeup and performs her morning rituals. If she jerks off again in the shower (sans soap), well, that’s her fucking private business, o-fucking-kay? Wouldn’t you be as randy as the 20 year old you very much aren’t anymore after bedding one of the sexiest women alive? Oh you say you wouldn’t? Fucking liar! Fuck you, fight me!

Thus, a much refreshed assistant/packmate to Jane Foster hobbles into the common area for a late 11am breakfast. She’s thrown on comfy old jeans and an old pokemon T-shirt. The scent of Natasha’s lusty sweet cinnamon has been cut somewhat, but still practically clings to her. Darcy paces quickly to the coffee maker hoping to keep the awkward questions to a minimum.

...Yeah, that goes about as well as you can expect. What can she say? Hope springs eternal?

“Lewis!! Would you pour me another cup as we- Holy shitsnacks! Why does it smell like a russian whorehouse that forgot to do laundry in here? Lewis?! What the hell? Is that you?” Came an incredulous comment over her shoulder from a certain alpha billionaire. 

Darcy’s neck burns with an embarrassed blush as she slowly finishes filling her mug and turning around. Taking in the room more fully she sees Jane and Thor at the kitchen island, half empty places of breakfast in front of them and shit eating grins on their faces. Bruce, wanda and vision are sipping tea on the couch, staring with surprise at the assistant. Tony stands in front of her, coffee mug in hand and surprised eyebrows all the way up in his hairline. 

Darcy awkwardly waves her empty hand. “Hi Tony, good morning to you too!” She comments drly. 

Jane cackles, long and slow, drawing the attention of the room. The astrophysicists face slowly turning red then purple from lack of oxygen as amused tears leak from her eyes. Thor looks on with amused concern as he soothingly pats her back. Darcy wants to just disappear into a hole in the floor by the time the petite scientist is able to breath again.

“So, I take it your little chat with Natasha last night went...shall we say well? It seems like well might be appropriate.” Jane manages with a smirk. 

“I hate you.” Darcy snarks.

Tony guffaws for a second, amused by what he thinks is a joke. Before realization seems to dawn. 

“Wait, wait, wait...you’re telling me that short stack over here actually managed to bang itsy bitsy? Our untouchable ice queen itsy bitsy? And that she managed to avoid her inevitable fate of having her head consumed by the female praying mantis in human form? Okay, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t imagine a fluffy 30 year old poli sci grad being the one alpha badass enough to knot the widow.” The engineer asked incredulously.

Darcy got pretty miffed about that. Peaked even. Incensed perhaps. Regardless, a rare low rumbling growl emanates from her throat. 

“Hey, asshole, shut the fuck up. There’s just so much fucking wrong with that I can’t even-” Darcy barks.

“-heeeeey, you can’t say that to me! I pay your salary!” The engineer interrupts with a joking huff.

“Not really no. Check the paperwork. I’m here as Jane’s pack. I only moonlight as her unofficial assistant sugar cheeks. I can say what I want.” She replies with snort.  

The young alpha immediately dismisses the CEO and turns back to Jane. “In answer to your much more polite query. Yes. It went well. Very well…” She blushes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Weactuallymighthaveamaybedatetonightaswell.” She nervously fires off at an unbelievably fast ramble. 

Thor quirks a curious eyebrow. “Sorry Lady Darcy, could you repeat that?” He queries

“Date! Dates are fun, Dates are cool. Note! She left a note. The fucking Black Widow left me a note after we had sex. Amazing, dirty,hot as fuck, kinky sex on the kitchen counter. I’m supposed to be in the parking garage at 6. I think it’s a date. Oh god, it might actually be a date. Holy shit, a fucking date with fucking Tasha. What do I wear Jane? What do I wearrrrr?!!!”  Darcy nervously rambled off, becoming increasingly animated as she darts off back to her room. Amused guffaws and wolf whistles follow her down the hallway.

**********************************

Okay, in retrospect, Darcy probably didn’t need to start worrying about what to wear 7 hours before her maybe-date with Tasha. 3 or 4 probably would have done it, you know, if she had been nervous, which she wasn’t. No, not nervous, never. 

Okay, maybe she’s a little nervous. But you know, wouldn’t you be? (of course you would, see previous comment re: fuck you, fight me)

Still, It had taken the better part of two hours for her to finally settle on something to wear. The alpha had thrown together several dozen combinations of outfits from her vastly overstuff closet. She read over the note again and again to try and determine where she might be going on her maybe-date.

...it was not enlightening. 

So, ultimately (with some altogether too amused prodding from Jane to ‘just pick something all goddamn ready. God, I can’t fucking believe you! It’ll be fine!’) she’d settled for something nice, but not too nice. A bit Dressy. You know, just in case it was a nice restaurant or something, but not so dressy it would be out of place walking down the street or at a bar after work if that was more her speed. 

Eventually she’d decided on a custom-made pair of black slacks that cupped her curves perfectly and made her ass look seriously fucking amazing. Plus, a lovely but understated white blouse and some ruby earrings to add a splash of color. Her lucky lacey push-up red bra helped add that little something to finish the outfit (by which she means, helps almost pop the buttons off her blouse with alarming swell of her tits). For good measure Darcy clips Tasha’s knife to her belt along with a delicate gold wallet chain.

Once decided on clothes it only takes another hour and a half to finish fussing over her makeup. 

...god she really is fucking nervous isn’t she. This is happening, a maybe-date with a super spy out of her fucking wet dreams is really fucking happening. It’s been years since she’s really ever given dating a shot, not counting the kiss with Ian, which, eww, no. Never again. Still, she grabs a snack and settles in with some Parks and Rec to distract her until the fateful hour. 

...It’s not very effective.

********************************************

5:58pm sees Darcy awkwardly hovering in the Avengers private garage. Her hands itch with nervous energy and she’s trying not to sweat through her deodorant before Tasha even shows up. The alpha’s always been a bit of a fiddler. So it’s maybe not a big surprise for her when she snaps Tasha’s knife off her belt and begins to repeatedly flick it open and closed. Darcy lovingly admires the smooth slide action and the pleasant swell of the handle in her palm. 

...She yelps and almost knicks herself when a set of arms wrap around her shoulders, soft mounds of flesh press into her back and a sultry voice purrs into her ear. 

“I see you got my present milaya. Do you like it?”

Darcy’s heart is pounding with surprise, and she curses under her breath as she twirls to face the fucking ninja behind her. 

“Goddamn it Tasha, don’t do that shit. You need a bell. I’m getting you a fucking bell.” She indignantly huffs. The fucking Black Widow fucking  _ pouts _ at that and it’s all Darcy can do not to whimper and whisk her off to her room to cuddle and make it all better. Those lovely green eyes. Fucking. Eh. The alpha manages to keep up the stern act for all of three seconds before she caves. 

“Oh fucking hell. Those eyes are  _ not _ fair. I love it, thank you Tasha.” Darcy says with a broadening grin. 

The spy gives her an amused smirk and Darcy’s stomach does a weird little nervous flutter at the mischief hidden within those eyes. The omega leans in and takes a deep waft of Darcy’s neck. Her eyes darken and lust flares in her scent. The smirk becomes a cheshire grin. 

“I’m pleased you liked it milaya. Anything for you. However, I’m _ very _ pleased you followed my little suggestion as well.” Tasha purrs as she reaches out to stroke a finger along the alpha’s chin. That makes Darcy fucking  _ whimper _ with want. 

Her knees shake as she reaches out to pull the spy into her, boldly connecting their lips in a wanton kiss. Their tongues briefly battling before Darcy’s mouth parts and Tasha presses in, practically devouring her mouth. Suddenly, Darcy’s been flipped around and pressed up against the concrete wall of the parking garage. The alpha barely caring about dirtying her blouse as she gently ruts her rapidly hardening clit against the spy’s abdomen. Soft sighs and gasping breaths echo through the garage. 

Long moments later, the omega gives a frustrated growl and pulls back. Darcy is not ashamed to admit she mewls a bit pathetically at the loss of contact. 

“Milaya, as lovely as this is, we do in fact have a reservation to keep.” Tasha croaks out, her face flush and eyes blown with lust.  

Pausing with a groan, Darcy takes in the rest of Tasha. The woman is dressed maybe a little less formally than Darcy. Her lovely legs have been practically poured into sinfully tight dark jeans. A deep red blouse covers her chest. It’s covered by a thick black leather motorcycle jacket, which goddamn, it’s not even fucking fair how good the woman fucking looks in leather. (her clit may or may not give a happy twitch at that) Darcy notices a pair of motorcycle helmets on the floor beside her, along with a second leather jacket.

“I take it we’re going for a ride then Tasha?” She queries. 

The super spy waves to a sleek black ducati a stall away. 

“Correct.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nat's changed to Milaya as her endearment for Darcy. It is actually a more concious choice. To my understanding its closer to dear or darling or beautiful. Doing so to indicate a bit more closeness and a subtle change in their relationship.


	3. Dinner and an Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Natasha discuss...things. Fun things, sad things, big things, small things. Just things.

Shortly after suiting up, Tasha guns the bike out the private exit of the tower. The spy ducks and weaves alarming (and questionably legally) through the busy New York traffic. Quickly they exit the overcrowded streets of Manhattan and speed down the highway. Tasha guns the engine even harder, passing car after car as the engine roars. 

Okay, Darcy thinks, she may just have found a new fucking fetish. Because, goddamn, riding a bike with Tasha is one of the most scare-rousing things she’s done in her fucking life. Darcy is beset by terrifying images of flying off and becoming an asphalt pancake. Or ducking around a taxi only to splat into an oncoming truck. Still, the bike’s aggressive growling rumble between her legs is honestly doing something for her...and pressing herself into the soft leather on Tasha’s back is fucking...umph. 

All this to say, the trip is a bit of a blur to the moonlighting assistant. Some time later however, the bike does stop safely (Darcy’s brain just isn't up to keeping track of time while she's pinned against all that rumbling sexiness okay? Sheesh). The brunette dazedly looks around. Seeing a large wooded park on one side of the street and a series of nice looking storefronts on the other. 

The assassin unbuckled their helmets and starts pulling Darcy towards a restaurant with a light blue and white sign. 'Mykonos’ is proudly emblazoned in black letters across it. “Huh, was not expecting Greek. Took you more for a fancy Italian on a first date kinda girl.” She quips. 

“Milaya,” Tasha clicks her tongue mock sternly and waffles a finger in her face. “If you were a mark I was trying to wine and dine you bet your cute ass we'd be at the priciest bistro in the city. No. I brought you here. That means something else. The food is great and the atmosphere is lovely. I happen to know a wonderful pianist is providing some live music accompaniment tonight as well.” The redhead paused, some measure of uncertainty coming into her gaze. Her voice got lower and more hesitant. “Plus, this is my favorite restaurant. Clint brought me here for my first night out as a free woman. It's... significant.” 

Darcy’s heart melts into a pool of warm good as she notes the barest hint of a blush that may be dusting the woman's cheeks. The brunette doesn't know what to say, but wants to just leap on the woman and cuddle her to the ground. She resists the undignified temptation however. The assistant can't imagine how hard it must have been for the veritable exemplar of trust issues to offer up something so... intimate as way of explanation. 

“Milaya?” Darcy starts as she realizes she's been staring dumbly at the woman for several seconds at a vulnerable moment. She blushes an amusing shade of red. 

“Uhh, thanks Tasha. The place is lovely and I'm so glad you brought me. I was just joking earlier. You know me. No brain to mouth filter when I'm around pretty girls. Or when I'm scared. Or nervous. Or happy. Or have had too much coffee. Or too little coffee. Or I'm tired. Or…” Darcy rambles awkwardly as she stares off into space. 

A look of profound amusement crosses the spy’s face. The redhead saves Darcy the embarrassment by simply smiling and pulling her into the restaurant. 

The server seats them in a lovely candlelit corner booth Tasha reserved with clear sightlines and access to several exits. The spy notes the expression of overwhelmed curiosity on Darcy’s face as she tries to take in all the little nick nacks and art on the walls. The spy smirks as she pulls the brunette into the booth next to her so they can cuddle over the meal. 

Taking a moment, they both quickly order wine and food before a semi awkward silence descends on the pair. 

“So,” Darcy states, as her unfinished thought trails awkwardly. The redhead decides to just raise a questioning brow. She wants to give Darcy the chance (or challenge) to take the lead in the conversation.She is well aware of the fact that she can be a little overwhelming and controlling at times, and is conscious to give people space when needed. 

“I guess this is the part where we awkwardly exchange carefully edited life stories?” Darcy eventually queries. 

The alpha visibly relaxes as a deep rumbling chuckle emanates from Tasha throat. “Oh Milaya, you certainly shouldn't worry about editing yourself around me. I'm the one with the mountains of baggage.” She argues with a self effacing smirk. 

“Ahhh, but there you see Tasha, if issues were tissues we'd all have a box. Frankly, the avengers are an unofficial support group for veterans with ptsd...and the support staff and friends of the avengers ain't much better.” The alpha jokes with just a hint of a grimace. 

Tasha gives her a faintly surprised look as her stare becomes more inquisitive. Darcy squirms under her study before the spy gives her a satisfied nod. She sees no signs of deception or manipulation...just hesitance and vulnerability. “Well then. Colour me curious. What baggage does our lovely assistant feels the need to carefully edit out?” She asks, cautiously. 

Darcy snickers for a second before answering. “Come now Tasha, what would be the point of editing if I were to just spill the rough draft at the drop of the hat? How about this. Let's give each other the overview, go from there?” The brunette asks with a smirk. 

Tasha gives her a slow nod before Darcy continues. “So, first things first. I'm not actually Jane's assistant, or at least I haven't been since New Mexico. I'm officially registered as part of her pack, and I just so happen to help take care of her because she's family. My actual job is a little more lucrative than you might have expected.” The woman gives an awkward shrug as she grabs her water glass a little tighter. 

“I more or less grew up with my Nana and Grandpa. They died when I was... around 15? Left me their little boutique clothes store in the will, Delilah tailoring. My foster family helped me run it till I turned 18. Since then we've expanded and I've delegated so I can do most of the management and designing online.” She explains, with a bit of a cocky smirk. 

Tasha gives her the eyebrow arch that has doomed so many agents to spilling their guts. “Why did a small business owner end up being a poli sci student trying to get science credits?” 

Darcy grimaces and passes a hand over her neck nervously. She takes a few long moments to consider how much she wants to share, squirming constantly under the spy’s steady gaze. The woman gave a muttered “Super fucking spies. Grump.” under her breath.

Eventually Darcy did manage to speak up more fully. The redhead notes she is still full of unsure tension and seems to vibrate with vulnerability. “I, uh. I was kinda thrust into responsibility pretty young. It was...strongly suggested by some in my family that I do something for myself...that wasn't super practical, but was fulfilling. Get the chance to try and be a stupid college kid again, y'know.” As the explanation slowly starts to unfurl from the woman, Tasha lays a hand gently on the inside of her wrist. Trying to offer her some support on what is clearly a difficult topic. Being thrust into responsibility too early is something the red room graduate can very much relate to. 

“Hence taking a bunch of interesting Poli sci and history courses...and telling science to go fuck itself. In the process I got pulled into all this amazing weirdness and found my pack. So, you know, good decision ultimately.” Darcy hesitantly explains, with a fond grin crossing her features, though her scent is still a bit acrid, tinged with old wounds. 

Natasha for her part, looks on fondly, feeling a twinge of sympathy. A bittersweet smile crosses her features. Before she can overthink it she's already speaking. “Milaya...how much do you know about my history?” The redhead asks tentatively. 

Darcy starts briefly and Tasha watches her scrunch her eyebrows in thought. “Well. I mean, there's the whole super spy with a mysteriously dark and traumatic soviet past thing? Nobody really knows the details and aside from that you're notoriously tight lipped.” Darcy says as she looks for askance and approval. She must see it, because a smirk crosses her features a second later. 

“You toooootally have the whole sexy pouty broody look down pat though. And just so you know, that's kinda my fucking kryptonite. I swear, it's like every other day I see you having a sad by yourself back in a corner at the tower. Thinking you're all sneaky and inconspicuous hiding alone in a corner when you’re totally not. Then I just want to tackle hug you and shove homebaked sugary treats down your throat till you smile again. Maybe cuddle and kiss and pet you till the sad goes away.”

Tasha huffs, half in amusement and indignation. “Well, I'm pleased my…’broody’ looks do something for you. Though, sugar may not be the most effective treatment.” The spy says with a grin. 

The moment hangs for a second as the spy goes tense. Her stomach churns with a vague feeling of guilt. Here is the adorable funny, sunny girl and she's a spy with gallons of blood on her hands. What fool thing exactly is she trying to accomplish here? Wooing her? How is that going to work? Not even accounting for her issues, she's off on missions half the time. There's no way Darcy would accept that bum deal. She mentally chastises herself for her flight of fancy. Tasha forces herself to speak past the lump in her throat as she decides to just bite the bullet.

“Darcy...I... don't want to misrepresent what's going on tonight, or sugar coat my past. I'm not a good person. I've...done things…had things done to me. Just that... I'm strong enough to admit I'm broken...and it's probably not going to change. I won't be able to really love you as you deserve. I don't do commitment or bonding. I have missions all the time and I'm very aware I may not come home from any one of them. If I'm involved with someone...it's not going to be a fairy tale romance or whatever you might think of it. If we continue this that has to be okay with you.” The spy explained, her scent turning sour and a grimace spreading her lips.

“Bitchin, sign me up!” The alpha snapped aggressively as she interrupted the redhead’s (admitedly self flagellating) monologue. Tasha’s mouth hung open in blatant shock as a blush crept up the woman's cheeks. The cloying scent of embarrassment blanketed the table for long moments.

“I, uh I mean, not good that you had bad experiences or whatever. I'm super sorry to hear that and uh, sorry that I'm an insensitive nervous doofus. Like uh, I want you to be okay and know your able to talk to me and I won't judge you and uh... Fuck, I suck at this” The alpha nervously rambled. Tasha took a breath to interject and save her from herself but Darcy found her footing and just barreled on.

“Just uh...I kinda might actually prefer that sort of low commitment relationship myself? I'm not sure if you noticed but I'm honestly more platonic than not with my pack. Like sure, our pack dynamics are free and open. So sure, I have sex with Jane, Thor and Sif occasionally...but they're really just quasi friends family sorta thingamajigs? Mostly we just help each other out through heats and ruts or get frisky after drinking heavily. I don't really know how to explain it well. But like... The sort of squishy sqwooshy wuv Thor and Jane have doesn't actually exist for us mere mortals. So, uh... I'd be pretty happy to just... spend what time we have together and live our own lives separately otherwise?” She explained more seriously. 

The redhead burst out into a series of hysterical giggles. Tears actually misted her eyes before she blinked then away. The server gave the pair a questioning look as she dropped off their food while the spy was fighting for breath. 

“Milaya, I'm not sure what reaction I was expecting, but that most certainly was not it. I see your not quite the sweet innocent thing you appear on the outside.” Tasha joked with a pointed grin. 

“Nope!” Darcy said, popping the p and giving Tasha a saucy wink. 

The pair tucked into the lovely meal, which was deliciously tender lamb. The conversation quickly moved on the more pleasant topics. They laughed through Tony's latest bone headed experiment causing an explosion in the lab, that one time the team had to save the world from death by fluffy kittens (if you must ask, it involved a frying pan, experimental genetically modified beef and a pissed as hell supervillain sentient aardvark) and the various comings (hah! Phrasing!) And goings of the relationships within the avengers. 

Eventually the redhead paused as a Cheshire grin spread across her face. As much as she had expected Darcy to balk and run when she made her little confession, she's a fucking spy and she always has back up plans to her backup plans. Darcy pauses her rambling as she notices the mischievous look Tasha is giving her. 

“So, Milaya, given how surprisingly well our earlier conversation went and the...experiences we shared after the party. Perhaps we should have a bit of an important conversation?” The spy says with an intentional mystique. She pauses for a moment and leans in close to the alpha. Her hand moves up to cup her cheek. She tips the Alpha's head up to stare deeply into Darcy's warm brown eyes. The unmistakable scent of arousal begins to add tension to the air. 

“How would you like me to seduce you Milaya?” The spy asks, her voice low and husky. The faintest rumbling rumbling of a purr starts in her throat. She nips just below the alphas jaw and smirks at the faint whine that elicits from the brunette. “What makes you hot, what makes you hard? What makes you shiver and squirm with desire?” Tasha continues, interpersing her questions with gentle kisses up and down the woman's throat. 

Darcy is clearly biting back progressively louder whines as they are definitely edging up to and past the line of acceptable public behavior. Tasha grins at the soft moans she elicits from her, happy that the booth gives them some privacy and the server is busy elsewhere. 

Eventually though, Darcy is able to cough and interrupt the moment. The woman takes a deep steadying breath. “Fuuuuuck. Tasha. Thats fucking not fucking cock gobbling fair, you goddamn tease.” The alpha rambles in frustration. The spy just grins at her disheveled appearance. She licks her lip hungrily at all the fun she knows she’s going to have teasing this pretty young thing. 

Darcy goes still for a second, seeming to be considering her answer. The woman takes another deep breath, obviously steadying her nerves. 

“I, Uhm. You probably guessed... I'm more of a bottom than alphas are usually expected to be. Like, uh. What I enjoy. Like, what turns me on. Is like…” Darcy stares off into space for a few moments, zoning out.

“Yes Milaya?” Tasha prompts kindly. She releases a wave of calming scent and curls her slender fingers around the brunettes wrist. She draws small soothing circles on her arm, trying to show the woman can trust her with her clearly sensitive desires.

“I really like to be ordered about. To be edged and denied. Knives are dead sexy. Either just to mindfuck me or cut my clothes off. Though, I really hate getting hit with things. Embarrassment and gentle humiliation are beyond hot. Like uh, being called bitch or slut or whatever. I, uh...the pack usually...the pack usually fucks my ass...and makes me lick my cum off the floor. Or I...cleanoutthorafterjanefuckshim.” The alpha explains, growing a somewhat worrying shade of pink. The scents of embarrassment and arousal rise in equal measure, the former seeming to only stoke the latter under Tasha’s cool gaze. She is veeeeeeery much in favour of this little development. 

“What was that Milaya? Talk slower slut. E-nun-ci-ate.” The redhead prompts devilishly. 

Darcy splutters adorably for a few seconds before continuing. “Jane, uh. Jane fucks Thor and knots him right? I uh, have to watch and not touch myself. Then, uh. When she pulls out? Then I get to lick my alphas cum out from her omega? You know, clean him up all pretty like? And Sif tells me if I did a good job? If I was a good girl? And if I’m good I get pets and I get to cum on Sif’s clit. I really like that part, though really, it’s all fun.” Her voice cracks with nerves by the time she's done explaining, mostly rambling off. 

Tasha presses closer to the alpha and purrs, long and slow. Her own arousal spikes and nearly bowls over the poor girl. “Very hot Milaya. Anything else?” She presses once more. 

“I er...I kinda really like feet and legs? Like giving pedicures and foot rubs and I'd fucking give any fucking thing to get one chance to massage your amazing thighs. Or have your feet stomping on my clit and fucking goddamn did I just make this weird? I just made this weird. Fuck. Way to go Darcy. Great fucking job.” The alpha cut off with an agonized and embarrassed groan. Her head dropping in her hands. 

Tasha merely guffaws at her antics. Pleased to note the scent of arousal only grew with her embarrassment. “Darcy! Milaya, it's okay. I happen to be a fan of being pampered. That would be lovely.” She chided, putting the woman out of her misery. The cheshire grin returns to the spy’s face as she decides to take back control of the...conversation? Interrogation? Whatever it is, the omega’s panties are practically soaked from all the myriad fantasies spinning in her mind as she contemplates the best ways to pick apart this lovely woman. 

“What would you say to being tied down?” Tasha queries. Darcy gives her a vigorously enthusiastic series of head nods. 

“Bite marks all over your body? Not bonding, just marking?” Another vigorous head nod, along with a slight whine. 

“Sex in a public place? Having your little slutty bitch tendencies threatened to be exposed for all the world to see?” Deep red blush, and a tentative but positive nod. 

“Being used as my dildo when I’m in the mood? Your pleasure being irrelevant as you’re tied down?” A moan and a happy whimper to that one. 

“Being marked by my scent in every way that matters? My cum, my spit, my piss on your adorably slutty face? On your whorish tits? On your clit?” At this point, Tasha is amused to notice the alpha is practically vibrating with suppressed need, and nodding for all her worth. She’s honestly slightly concerned that in this state the woman would accept anything she suggested.

“Can I remove your right molar with a pair of pliers? I’ll put it back, but it’s always been a fantasy of mine.” She deadpans. Darcy’s jaw drops in shock and her face pales. She splutters hesitantly for several long seconds. The spy can only hold back her amused guffaws for a couple seconds before she cracks. 

“Milaya, relax. Relax girl. I was just checking if you were actually still paying attention. I’m pleased to note you were.” She reassures with a shit eating grin. 

“FUCKING BITCH! Goddamn, I actually half thought you were serious there for a second. Goddamn, holy shit that was scary. My motherfucking life just fucking flashed before my fucking eyes over here.” Darcy rants. 

“Did you honestly consider it?” Tasha queries with her eyes flashing mischievous mirth. 

“...maybe for a twentieth of a second. Cause I really, really like you and my hindbrain wants to do anything to make you happy. But ow, oh fuck, no. Do not want. Nein. Niet. Non. Nann. Motherfuck, no.” The alpha rambles aggressively. 

The pair burst into hysterical giggles for long moments. Eventually a charged silence settled onto the table. Natasha briefly considered whether or not to use her most...aggressive backup plan. Eventually, the Cheshire grin returns to her face one last time. The spy reaches into a compartment on her coat and brings out a small black wooden box. It's A little bigger than a jewelry case a bracelet would come in.

“Now, I don't want to just assume Milaya. Assumptions make an ass of us all. However, if you would like, there's a little surprise in there for you. Please go to the washroom. If you would like to continue, put on what's inside. I'll get the check and we can go for a walk in the park beside us. I happen to know a lovely...very secluded spot where we might have some privacy. Otherwise, I am happy to order desert and just chat for awhile before we head home.” The spy offered with a smirk.

Darcy squirmed, a little hesitant. “What's in the box?” She asked. 

“A butt plug.” Tasha responded with a challenging quirk of her eyebrow. 

The alpha adorably spluttered for a second. However, she quickly snatched the box up and skipped to the washroom with a happy spring in her step. 

Natasha flashes her backside a lecherous stare and shit eating grin before waving the waiter down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm a cock teasing cliffhanger writing bitch. Yes, there will be much explicit sex next chapter.


	4. A happy mugging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot happens. All of the totally serious plot. With characters and depth and all that shizz!!!!!
> 
> Oh fuck it, yeah, it's just sex. The entire chapter is just porn. Enjoy. 
> 
> (the plot intrudes next chapter)

*************************************  
Turns out, a bit of careful exhibitionism really, really does it for Darcy. Not that she’s really surprised. It’s just...been a while since she’s had a chance to get really filthy and daring with her partners. The pack’s lovely, but royal Asgardians tend to be understandably concerned with decorum in public (all bets are fucking off when the bedroom doors closed however; there’s a reason Tony installed gallon drums of lube in every suite of the tower). So, for the last few years, most of their sexy times has been in heavily soundproofed secured rooms at the tower. 

All this to say Darcy’s belly is fluttering with tense anticipation as she tries (unsuccessfully) to walk normally as they exit the restaurant. The plug grinds against her clenching ass, stoking a dull fire in her gut. Every sway and awkward step reminds her of its presence and sends a low thrill up her spine. Her clit is slowly chubbing, and an anticipatory rumble echos in her throat. 

The brunettes eyes briefly flash to follow Tasha’s gaze. The spy’s green eyes are positively sparkling with heat and mischief. The woman’s intent gaze tracks the few other walkers in the mostly empty park. Every few seconds those jade orbs flutter to take in the sway of Darcy’s ample breasts before a smirk parts the spy’s lips and color warms her cheeks (yaasssssss!!!! lucky red bra strikes again).

Darcy’s caught staring repeatedly at the long, slender legs of Tasha. The alpha is practically licking her lips as she gets lost in the purposeful stride of the woman just in front of her. The muscles rippling with fluid catlike grace. At this point Darcy’s too keyed up to even pretend to care about decorum, or public decency, or not staring like a horny teenager. Frankly the only reason she’s not trying to tackle the woman into a fierce kiss is the omega obviously has a destination and a plan in mind (and she’s pretty damn sure she’s going to love it if she’s good and waits for it).

Her anticipation only builds higher when Tasha tentatively grasps Darcy’s fingers to bring her hand up to the woman’s lips for a gentle kiss. “This way Milaya.” The omega huskily breathes as she leads them off the beaten path. They walk for a few minutes up a gentle incline, coming to a copse of trees on top of a small hill. The top of the hill is slightly bowed inward, so one could hide in the dip; remaining hidden from the rest of the park, but having clear sightlines in 360 degrees.

Darcy is slowly spinning in a circle, taking in the secluded spot when Tasha’s arm wraps around her chest. A threatening growl sounds in her ear, causing her knees to lock and her breath to catch. There’s a small click as a folding knife is opened and a cool sensation on Darcy’s neck as it’s gently placed along her jugular. Her eyes glance down, realizing the knife forcing her to stand up straighter and straighter is the sexy red number the woman had gifted her just that morning. 

Some distant part of her brain is amused the woman so easily pickpocketed her without a sign. Another distant part of her brain is scared some do gooder is going to walk past the scene and think the alpha is being mugged. 

...But the true majority of her brain is turned right the fuck on and the dial has been cranked to motherfucking 11. Her clit, which, until now, had just been aching and clenching a bit is now rock hard and straining the buckle on her pants. Little helpless mewls are escaping her lips continually as she forces herself not to move or gulp and cut herself. Her knees go unsteady as she fights to retain her balance. 

And, you know, maybe it’s kinda fucked up that having a very sharp knife threatening to slash her jugular is turning her crank so much. The last time Sif had been on world, the alpha warrior had asked her what she found pleasurable about the experience. Darcy didn’t really have an answer. Or at least, there were enough components that it wasn’t easy to describe when the edge of Sif’s bloody longsword was scraping across the tender flesh of Darcy’s belly. 

The simplest part of it is purely chemical. Fear and danger cause the body to unleash a whole host of chemicals, especially so in alphas. Frankly the massive dump of adrenaline and endorphins flooding her system as Tasha growls into her ear is making her head fuzzy and dimming the sharp edges of her usually overactive mind. 

Darcy feels herself going limp and pliant, almost drugged, yet more aware of every movement and sensation than ever before. Her muscles are primed for activity but waiting for a command that never comes. The woman feels the soft caress of Tasha’s nails along her neck as burning embers of clawing sensation. She feels the lusciously silky caress of the omega’s lips kissing lightly behind her ear as a powerful bite of dominance. Overloaded whimpers escape Darcy’s throat as the woman nibbles on her ear. 

Another part of it is the aesthetics of the act. Darcy purrs happily when Tasha spins her around, pressing her against one of the trees. Her insides clench with heat as she takes in the spy’s burning gaze and dilated pupils. The redheads muscles ripple up her arm as she adjusts her hold on the knife. Her stance open and ready for any minor motion. The vision of pure lethality, coiled and ready for action is just...fucking hot. Darcy lets out a long wanton moan at the sight. 

“Strip.” The omega orders. Emphatic, controlled and filled with every ounce of confident dominance the assassin can muster. Darcy’s hands are moving instantly. She pops the buttons on her blouse, before sliding her hands down to her pants. She shimmies them down around her thighs before the assassin shifts the knife to press into the flesh of her throat. She stills, knowing commands don’t have to be verbal. 

The last part Darcy gets off on is the headspace of it. Darcy may not be privy to her every secret, but she knows the spy hasn’t lied about anything important. Perhaps held back some details...but we all have secrets. Ultimately she knows that every twitch of the blade, every subtle scrape as it slides down the flesh of her stomach is controlled, precise and intended. She can’t think of anyone else she’d trust more to wield a knife around her vitals. That feeling of trust lets her give up her worries and just float on the cloud of chemicals in her brain.

Darcy starts at the sounds of a soft snick. Her gaze drops to her crotch and watches in awe as Tasha expertly slices through the bands on her panties. The fabric, already strained by her dripping member is swept up in the slender hands of the woman. Those lovely hands move up to stuff the silky fabric in Darcy’s mouth. She tastes the musky flavor of her own precum and lust scent cloying her nostrils.

“There now, wouldn’t want to wake the neighbours my sweet. You’re going to be nice and quiet while I have my wicked way with you yes?” The spy murmurs sultrily into Darcy’s ear. The alpha for her part, whimpers happily around her gag and gives the woman a vigorous nod. 

What follows next is slow, agonizing, delightful torture. The redhead using one hand to cup Darcy’s dripping clit gently while her knife starts to move. It glides along the soft flesh of Darcy’s clit, causing constant flashes of intense sensation. Darcy’s instincts are instantly at war with her brain. One part of her hindbrain wanting to run or attack the threat. Another to rut up against whatever object is causing such frissons of pleasure to course through her. Her brain cautioning her the whole time to stay still, obey her dominant’s commands. 

Darcy feels herself falling apart into a babbling, moaning mess. Though, she’s sure all that really comes out past the gag are muffled whimpers and drool slipping down her chin. Tasha smirks at the loss of control, starting to alternate grazing Darcy’s clit with her nails and the knife. She purrs at each throbbing twitch of the member, each drooling drop of precum falling to the dirt.

Eventually, Darcy starts to beg. Muffled mewls of “Please” Push past the the gag. She’s not exactly sure what she’s begging for. Maybe for Natasha to stop (but not really, cause this is fucking awesome) but she knows she needs something, wants something. She grows increasingly desperate. The spy moving a hand to her stomach to hold her down in response to Darcy’s unconscious pumps of her hips. 

Long moments pass before Tasha responds to her begging with a possessive growl. Those lovely, slender hands move up Darcy’s body. One grabs the alphas wrists and pins them to the tree above her. The other presses the knife once more into her throat. Tasha’s lovely red lips crash into the brunettes in a harsh kiss. There is no battle for dominance, no contest of wills. Tasha simply devours her mouth, growling harshly the whole time. Darcy purrs happily and presses her clit against the omega’s stomach hopefully. 

Tasha breaks the kiss as Darcy’s vision starts to go spotty. Darcy feels herself staring dumbly, her eyes glazed and hazy at the woman. Those lips move down, down, down, and suddenly Darcy feels a harsh flare of pain over her right breast. She groans and restrains herself from moving for fear of cutting herself on the knife. Still, tears mist her eyes as the assassin bites down, harder and harder. Moments pass, on and on as pain and endorphins flood her already overwrought brain. 

Eventually, Tasha leans back, revealing a harsh bite imprint in the soft flesh of Darcy’s chest. A perfect set of teeth are moulded into the skin, already purpling with deep bruises. Tasha gives them a playful poke and flashes a pleased smirk at the alpha. Darcy gives her a startled yelp as the momentary pain helps her come back to herself. 

“Well, milaya. I think you’ve been a good girl tonight. No bratiness or teasing, just sitting there and taking what I give you like a champ. I think you deserve a reward.” Tasha whispered in her ear, practically purring. 

Darcy lets out a surprised and happy squak as the omega drops a hand to pop the button on her own jeans. It darts back to pin Darcy’s hands above her head again as the taller woman hooks a leg over Darcy’s hips. Darcy whimpers and begs more as she feels the wet heat of Tasha’s sex resting on the top of her clit. The redhead chuckles, long and low. 

“Awww, poor little slut. Are you a little horny? A little hot and bothered and begging for me? Make some more of those cute little bitch noises of yours and I may, in fact, indulge you.” The Spy says with a smirk. She accentuates her point by grinding her lip forward to slide against Darcy’s dripping clit. 

“PLEASE TASHA!!!! PLEASE, FUCK ME!!” Came the muffled response from Darcy, along with a series of begging whines. Her hips unconsciously rock forward the barest degree, trying unsuccessfully to bury her length in something hot and warm. 

The spy leans in close and whispers in her ear, “My pleasure milaya,” before biting a bruise underneath it. Her hips pull back and sink slowly down on Darcy’s throbbing crotch with a happy groan. Darcy growls and tries to push forwards and bury herself deeper, only to feel the nick of Tasha’s blade at her throat. 

“Ah ah ah my cute little kitten. Be good for me.” The spy chides with a grin. Darcy groans and cusses aloud but stills under the redheads hands.

Tasha smirks and gives a happy purr at the obedience. Slowly, she rocks further down Darcy’s clit and gently, teasingly begins to goddamn tear Darcy’s mind apart. Darcy luxuriates in the sensation of warm-wet-lovely heat clamping down on her, even as she whines and begs for the woman to go faster. Tasha only smirks further, laying a series of smouldering kisses on the alphas lips. 

Minutes pass with no sounds leaving the copse of trees but soft sighs, low groans and the chirping of night birds. Tasha slows the pace tortuously as a lone pedestrian walks down the path they came from. She turns the alphas head to follow their path. Darcy tries to hold back the begging whine, but utterly fails and hopes whoever it is has their headphones in (because ho boy, would this be a compromising position for an avenger to be caught in!). 

Darcy’s brought out of her thoughts by the mounting moans of pleasure of the spy still working herself on her length. The brunette realizes her hands have been left free and the omega’s clever fingers are working over her sex rapidly. Darcy wants desperately to put her hands to good use and caress that lovely pale skin in front of her...but doesn’t know if that’s allowed. She darts her eyes purposefully up to her upraised hands and gives the omega a questioning shrug. The response is a challenging quirk of her brow, as if to say “You can try, but you won’t get far.” 

...Darcy chooses to just stay still for now. Despite how her hindbrain is screaming at her to push in, pound away, bite and claim. Despite how her clit aches and twitches at the knowledge such a pretty omega is literally jerking herself off on her length. 

It’s not long before Tasha gives a long, low breathy moan, signalling her approaching climax. The redheads stance stiffens momentarily and her teeth sink involuntarily into the flesh of Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy moans wantonly as the assassins walls flutter around her clit, coaxing her, teasing her, incensing the thick coil of heat in her gut. Darcy feels herself close, so close to the wondrous precipice of desire as Tasha shakes and squirms on top of her. Still though, the gates are locked, and she can’t quite get there. 

“Cum for me, you wanton little slut.” The redhead orders harshly in her ear. Though the comment is not without an undertone of amused satisfaction. Tasha snaps her hips forward, once, twice and then three times as aftershock spasms grip around Darcy’s clit. 

...And it’s enough. Tasha expertly moves the knife out of the way as Darcy buries her head in the woman’s neck. The alpha lets loose a muffled shriek as she inhales the musky scent of her omega. Her body shakes as pleasure rips through her. Her hips spasm and rut forward as she spills herself into the woman’s cunt. Dimly she’s aware of the woman continuing to slowly shift her hips. It draws out the long, shaky orgasm as Darcy squirms and mewls at the increasingly oversensitive sensation surrounding her clit.

Still though, eventually they start to catch their panting breaths and world starts to intrude again. Darcy becomes aware that at some point in her orgasm the pair had slid down the tree to the hard dirt. An uncomfortable root jabs into her back even as soft fingers curl through her hair. The spy pulls the gag of cloth out of Darcy’s mouth, stuffing it in her pocket. Momentarily the alpha scrunches her brow. The tattered remains of her panties are most certainly covered in drool and sex, not necessarily something you’d want in your pocket. 

Tasha catches her glance and flashes her a beaming grin. “A memento. To the first of hopefully many wonderful dates together.” She murmurs. 

Darcy has nothing to say to that beyond a happy purr as she brings the omega in to cuddle in the afterglow.


	5. Code: Deadly Nightshade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets a text and shit hits the fan. Momma bear Darce comes out to play (re: tase a bitch)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: So, there is actually a plot in this significantly porn filled story. Mostly with Darcy dealing with the unhealthy and abusive dynamics in her birth family. This is among the chapters earning the implied/referenced child abuse tag, so fair trigger warning. It won't be a massive component of the story, but it is a part.

**************************************

Natasha is absolutely purring in relaxed satisfaction. It’s an odd feeling, she muses, as they pick themselves off the ground and start walking back to the bike. Feeling relaxed in public is not something the spy makes habit of doing. Even with the Avengers (hell, especially with the Avengers even) she’s constantly scanning for threats, analyzing passersby and just a bit on edge. Ready, she thinks, for anything. 

...Not so much right now. Sure she still quirks an inquisitive brow at every passing pedestrian. Still takes a glance over passing cars and occupied windows. However, it’s half hearted at best. She’d vetted the area extensively before hand, and knows if anything was truly wrong her well honed instincts would snap on and push her to investigate further. 

For now, she’s happy to float on the lingering traces of the pleasure chemicals in her brain. To gloat internally as she clasps her lovely alpha’s hand and they walk beside each other. To giggle under her breath at the occasional jerky step Darcy takes as the plug still inside her shifts. The wrinkled brow and indignant huff the woman shoots her in response being beyond adorable. 

They make it back to the bike and the spy watches Darcy quickly check her phone before they start heading back. While she feels somewhat bad about it, the spy honestly can’t help her instincts to read the screen over her shoulder. Intel is always valuable after all. 

“Deadly Nightshade- Meet outside lobby?” Scrawls across the screen as Darcy checks a recent text. The contact name reads ‘Mel’. The alpha sucks in a harsh breath and curses loudly. Every hypervigilant instinct laying dormant in the spy flared to life. She’s instantly scanning the area for threats. 

“Milaya? What’s wrong?” Tasha asks with a calm clarity in her voice. 

Darcy grumbles and curses again, before starting to type a response rapidly. “Ack - 10-15 minutes out” appears. The alpha takes a deep steadying breath and then turns to face the redhead. 

Darcy’s entire demeanor has shifted from the woman Tasha knows. The glint in her eyes and hint of a smile that always seems to follow her is gone. Replaced by firm determination and a visibly clenched jaw. The brunettes scent is acrid and harsh. Her hands clenching and unclenching around the Taser Tasha is pretending she doesn’t know Darcy has stashed in her pocket. The intense fiery resolve flashing in her alpha’s eyes causes the spy’s breath to catch. Tasha’s insides clench, just a little in trepidation of whatever horrible news the message implies (and just a bit of admiration and lust, what can Tasha say, angry Darcy is also surprisingly hot Darcy).

When the woman finally does speak, it’s low, harsh and growly. The tone of an alpha skipping past growly posturing straight to starting fights. “I’m going to need you to get us to get back to the tower and quickly. I’m also going to need us to stop by the front lobby rather than the parking garage. There’s been a family emergency that I need to deal with.” Her alpha orders, barely restraining a snarl. Tasha’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline in surprise, but she recovers. The middle of a mission is not the time for questions, it’s the time for action. 

Tasha pops their helmets on and swings a leg over the bike. She looks over her shoulder to Darcy and cocks her head. The alpha follows and she guns the engine, speeding off into the night. 

********************************** 

The bike screeches to a halt on the street out from of the tower. Even this late at night the pedestrians are thick and cars clogs the streets. Darcy hops down before the bike has even fully stopped. She pulls her helmet off in a rush and drops it to the ground. 

“Keep an eye out for anybody tailing us or taking too much of an unfriendly interest. Probably in a silver or ugly orange car.” Darcy barks, turning to glance at Tasha. Tasha gives her a curt nod as she’s taking off her own helmet. Her pulse picks up just a pace with worry. As she’s scanning the area she pulls out her starkphone and hits the button to activate Jarvis. 

“How may I help you Agent Romanoff?” The british voices AI asks. 

“Get me comms to whoever of the team are free. Non-avengers but possible emergency channel. There’s a situation in the lobby.” The spy orders. 

Even as Tasha scans the crowd, her eyes track Darcy as she runs toward a car parked a few spaces in front of her. A smaller, young, brunette omega exits the vehicle, leaving two blonde children (approximately 5 or 6) in the back seat. Tasha steps closer even as the omega flings herself, sobbing into Darcy’s arms. 

“Romanoff, Clint and I are here. Sit-rep.” Came a gruff order out of the speaker from Steve.

“Darcy is apparently having a family emergency outside the lobby. She’s concerned we have a tail, said to be on the lookout for a silver or orange car taking too much of an interest. Her phone said something about deadly nightshade before.” The omega explains curtly. 

As she’s explaining, she hears just a few snatches of conversation as the omega in Darcy’s arms keeps sobbing. A part of Tasha’s hindbrain wants to get jealous over the young fertile omega draping herself across her alpha. However, she quashes that instinct; Even from here she can smell the familial relationship in their scents. 

“-so sorry Darce. I had to call! She broke his damn arm! What are we gonna do I can’t rai-” The omega sobs out miserably. 

Tasha wants to pay attention to the end of the sentence, but her attention is caught seeing a silver car passing them for the second time. The woman in the driver’s seat sending an intense glare towards where Darcy and the omega are standing. The spy see’s the woman’s hand clenching under the dash, possibly for a weapon. 

The assassin spins into action. Barking into the phone “Possible tango spotted. License plate, 136 FEJ. Woman, mid 20’s driving. Possible weapon under the dash” before grabbing Darcy’s arm. 

“Spotted your tail.” Tasha hisses to Darcy. 

Darcy tears her attention away from the sobbing woman in her ams, nodding curtly to the omega. The alpha pushes away slightly before pulling the omegas face up to look her in the eyes. 

“Look Mel, it’s going to be alright. I’ll handle it. Just like always. Now, get in the car, we’ll go up to my room and work it out. I’ll drive.” She says strongly. Darcy pushes the woman strongly towards the vehicle, opening the door for her before starting around to the drivers side. 

“I’m going to take us into the parking garage. Follow behind, and whatever you do, don’t let anyone follow us in.” The alpha orders back to Tasha as she hops into the drivers side. The spy gives the barest nod of acknowledgement before hopping back on the bike. 

She follows Darcy’s car as they pull away from the curb and drive around to the private entrance to the tower parking garage. The whole time Tasha tracks the progress of the following car, noting it hasn’t made a move to intercept quite yet. 

“Got it! License plate belongs to one Morticia Delilah. Fuck that’s a mouthful. Anyway, resides in New York city. Priors for assault on record.” Clint shouts hurriedly over the phone. 

Natasha’s brow furrows, noting how the name lines up with the store Darcy mentioned running earlier in the night. Her first conclusion is this is some sort of business grudge or war, but that doesn’t sit quite right. The situation seems too personal, too raw. She doesn’t have time to really consider the implications though before they are pulling into parking garage.

The tower’s private entrance being a very attractive infil point is heavily protected. A thick locking metal door swings up from the ceiling, reacting to the chips in Darcy’s and Tasha’s starkphone. The tailing car guns it’s engine to sneak under the barrier, but comes to a screeching halt as Tasha spins the bike to face them just outside the door. Darcy continues on, parking the car a couple dozen feet inside. 

The driver of the silver car bursts out of her door. The woman, an alpha Tasha realizes, emanates a burning scent of rage as she growls and roars. 

“Out of the way bitch!” Morticia shouts as she starts moving down the ramp towards where Darcy has parked. Tasha notes a badly concealed knife sticking out the womans sleeve. The spy stands impassively, moving to block her path. The alpha throws a laughably sloppy punch that Tasha side steps with ease. Tasha growls and shoves her back a few steps, grinning at the impotent rage crossing the woman’s features.

Steps sound behind them, Tasha spins to see Darcy jogging up to the pair, taser in hand. The assassin stumbles momentarily at the scent of pure unadulterated rage rolling off her alpha. Her face scrunched up in a snarling roar as she points her weapon at the woman. 

In her hesitation, Mortician slips around Tasha. “Darcy Delilah you utter bitch!! Keeping secrets are we? Living it up while everyone else suffers? Stealing from us again?! Give them back! They’re ours! You have no right. Just like with Mel!” Morticia screams at Darcy. Raging as she steps closer and closer and hurls abuse at the woman. 

Tasha is just about to step in and remove the offending alpha when Darcy pulls the trigger. The prongs of the taser fly out and catch Morticia in the chest. A harsh zapping sound echoes through the garage as the woman thrashes and screams. She collapses to the ground, groaning. Darcy walks up and kneels over the woman. She scoffs dismissively. 

“They’re people, not things cunt. You don’t own them Mor.” She growls and spits on Morticia’s face. Morticia groans in pain, incapacitated on the ground, but feebly claws at Darcy’s legs. A weak growl rumbling in her throat. Darcy pulls the trigger again, giving her a second zap. 

“Whoops, my finger slipped.” The brunette says with a sneer once Morticia stops thrashing.

Tasha smirks at that, even as two security guards who had just run over from the nearby office glance between themselves. Clearly wondering if they should intervene. 

Darcy drops her taser, standing up and addressing the guards. Tasha licks her lips at the absolute vision before her. Angry Darcy is hot Darcy indeed. The brunettes creamy skin is flushed with exertion and her pupils are dilated. Sweat beads on her brow. The alpha sets her jaw, fire flashing in her eyes. Control and power in her voice. Her scent radiating threat, protection and power. 

“You two, take out the trash here. An unauthorized person attempted to gain access to the tower and was repulsed. End of story.” Darcy barks. “Tasha, get your bike inside and let's close the door.” The woman huffed turning to the spy. 

The trio hopped to follow her orders. Tasha carefully observing the brunette as they wheeled the bike back to Mel’s parked car. The spy’s respect for the woman grew as she watched a startling change take place over her features. Within seconds the woman had pulled back all trace of anger or distress from her scent (despite the obvious adrenaline still coursing through her veins, her hands still trembling). Her body language softened and muscles relaxed, a warm smile crossing her features.

Darcy walked up to the car and opened the back door, her scent radiating calm-safety-family-safe. Tasha stiffened as two crying blonde kids practically leapt out of the back seats and tackled her alpha to the ground. 

“Auntie Darcy!!! Are you okay!!” They squealed, hugging her tightly.

Darcy chuckled good naturedly, wrapping her hands around them to pet their hair soothingly. “Yes little doves. I’m fine. The big mean lady is gone.” She cooed. Long seconds passed as she soothed the distressed kids before the alpha pushed to sit up. It gave Tasha a chance to see the kids more closely, noticing the girl had an arm in a cast and the boy was bruised in several places with a scrape on his head. 

Some deep dark place in Tasha stirred and roared in pain. Memories of handcuffs, tutus and spartan bunks flashing before her eyes. She bit a snarl down and pushed her emotions away to remain calm, to remain objective. She walked over and laid a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. The alpha looked up with a hollow smile on her face. Her eyes clearly showing the war between soothing the children in front of her and the alpha’s own rage over the state of the children. 

“Tilly, Turner. I’m sorry, you must have been so scared. It’s okay now little doves. Why don’t you hop back in the car, then we’ll park and get you upstairs. I’ve got cups of hot chocolate and marshmallows with your names on it!” The alpha cooed encouragingly at the pair. The pair’s eyes went wide with amazement before they started squealing happily. After a second they practically leapt back in the car, closing the door behind them. Two sets of big adoring blue eyes stared out the back window as Darcy picked herself up off the ground. 

Darcy beamed, glancing between the car and Tasha. “Adorable, ain’t they?” She said with a smirk. Tasha grinned back and nodded before a shadow crossed Darcy’s face. Her scent momentarily turned sombre as she stared off into the distance.

“We, uh...we should probably call Bruce. Get them a checkup, make sure they’re okay...and get some documentation going. I fucking know this shitstorm ain’t over.” Darcy says with a sigh, squeezing her brow to release some tension. The simple, practical statement makes Tasha’s head snap back to look at Darcy while a low growl rumbled in the back of her throat. 

“Understood.” She replies before crushing Darcy into a quick hug. Kissing her soft hair as the alpha sucked in a few shuddering breaths. After a few seconds they pulled themselves together and started to make their way up to their rooms.


	6. The Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets the story from Melissa. The mask falls away.

**********************************  
Despite the (fucking) wonderful evening out she’d had with Tasha...Darcy was verrrrry much not in a good mood. Of fucking course, just as she’s starting to get settled and move forward with her life the world has to make the shit hit the fan. The goddamn moment Mel had sent her their old codeword she’d felt the bottom drop out of her chest. It was an honest toss up between falling into a sobbing mess right then...or taking out her rage on a target more deserving. 

...And oh how good the latter had felt. Even now, hours later, a dark, dark part of her the alpha usually refuses to think about is gloating over seeing Mor get what’s coming to her. She tries not to let that show too visibly though. Darcy figures it’s kinda fucked up to get such visceral happiness from tazing one’s goddamn psycho of a sister. Regardless of past baggage and deservedness. 

Still, long overdue comeuppance really doesn’t do anything to remove the weight of the current situation from her mind. Her mind is spinning in circles, unsure how to feel. Whether to shout and rage, cry and hug the twins, or just want to hide in a deep dark cave till the problems blow over. Resentment wars with guilt, wars with relief, wars with bone grinding exhaustion. 

Still though, once again, someone needs to be the responsible goddamn adult in the room. Like always, she just can’t help herself. Just can’t step back and let the chips fall where they may. 

Someone has get Mel to sit down at the kitchen table before she falls down. Someone has to pretend to smile and bribe the twins with chocolates to get them to sit still while Bruce gives them a quick once over. Someone has to subtly take goddamn pictures of the injuries to throw in the goddamn binder full of fucking documentation. Someone has to drag the semi responsible golden lab known as Thor-bro down from his bedroom to watch the kids (as much as she loves Jane...just no, boss lady is not capable of keeping track of sugar high distressed kids, and nobody else in the tower is familiar to them).

Someone is Darcy, and frankly, that kills her, just a little inside. As much as she can push her shit aside and do want needs to be done...it's hard, harder even than the shit in the first place. The brunette feels herself skimming the edge of a panic attack breakdown the entire time. She blesses Tasha, who has the presence of mind to follow her around offering silent support. A silent brush of the hands here, a squeeze on the shoulder there, running interference with the nosy nellies otherwise known as the rest of the avengers. It’s frankly, just the perfect amount of hovering. Darcy’s pretty sure she’d burst into tears and be unable to move if anyone actually tried to hug her. 

Also, someone has to get the full story from Mel. So, with the twins being read a bedtime story by Thor and all urgent fires extinguished she slumps across from Mel at the table in the Thor floor kitchen. The overwrought omega’s eyes are red and puffy from crying. In the confusion she’s managed to snag a bottle of scotch and is currently at least a bit tipsy. At least two glasses in. 

Tasha walks up beside and hovers over them for a second, unsure her welcome. For the moment the rest of the team are giving them the illusion of privacy (Darcy is pretty sure the gossips are watching via Jarvis, but what can you do). Darcy waves Tasha over, miming her to bring glasses for each of them. She tops up Mel’s glass and pours a few fingers for herself and Tasha. Pointedly, she stands up and puts the bottle away. As much as an escape, any escape might appeal at the moment...she’s been down that road and it doesn’t actually make anything better. Plus, the whole, responsible adult thing. 

Turning back, she takes a sip of her drink, revelling at the burn sliding down her throat. She plasters a shakey smile on her face. 

“So. Tasha, meet Melissa, my little sister. Melissa meet Tasha, my...it’s developing and might have a label at some point?” The alpha jokes weakly. Still, it must not be too bad because the ends of the spy’s lips quirk into a smirk before the two greet each other. 

Darcy wraps her fingers around her glass, hoping for strength. “So...you used our old codeword. What’s the story, morning glory?” The woman asks, trying (but probably failing) to inject a bit of levity into the awkward silence. 

Melissa just sighs a bit, pinching her eyes a bit to release some tension. The omega takes a big gulp of the scotch before spluttering a bit as it goes down the wrong tube. “Same old story, same old usual suspects. Mom got dumped again, fell off the wagon fucking again. Because of course she did. You know her...then apparently her drunk brain thought it was a good idea to start inviting Morticia over around the twins again.” The woman explains with a dejected air of resigned exhaustion. 

Before Darcy’s brain could engage, try to be rational and solve the problem, she was already snarling. The alpha’s hindbrain howling in rage and slamming a first on the table. Tasha and Mel shrank backwards, shock transparent on their faces. It takes Darcy a minute, but she managed to pull herself back with a series of deep breaths. 

“Fuck...god dammit, I’m sorry. That’s not helpful of me. I’ll be fine, continue the story please.” She hisses through her teeth.

“Riiiight, so, uhm. Yeah. I went over to check on the twins like I always do Sundays...fucking god dammit. So, yeah, same old story, same old Mum. She was bitching at Turner out over stupid shit, smacking him around a bit. Him not being respectful enough for an omega or something else equally pig headed. Tilly, the absolute badass alpha that she is got in her face to protect her brother. Mom gets pissed, orders Morticia to teach her some manners...bam, flying fucking monkey broke her fucking arm. Right in front of me. Fucking cunts.” Melissa explained, the entire trio swearing loudly. 

Darcy forced herself to take a long swallow of scotch, just to have something to do with her hands. Melissa’s breath starts shuddering, and she starts crying softly again. “So I...I called CPS, just like you said we had to. They...they swooped in, started an investigation the next day. Given the record of those two harpies...the kids were removed the next day as the proceedings occur. The investigation and trial are still pending, but I don’t have to tell you what a shit show that’ll be. Since I’m the only legal family they have who isn’t crazy and doesn’t have a record I’m now apparently their legal guardian.” Mel pillowed her head in her hands, sobbing openly. 

“Fuck Darce, I’m barely a first year English student. I can barely take care of myself let alone the twins. You still pay my rent for chrissakes! What am I gonna do?” She shouted at the room. 

Tasha quirked a curious brow. “Why weren’t you considered?” She hissed at Darcy, low enough for the other omega not to hear.

“I was disowned and adopted a new identity when I went into foster care at 15. Name change, updates to all documents up to and including birth certificate. I have no easily searchable legal relation to the twins, as bullshit as that is.” She whispered back, a quiver in her voice. 

Darcy reached out and placed a comforting hand on Melissa’s shoulder with a deep sigh. Already knowing the inevitable outcome. “Look, Sis...I said I’ll handle it and I meant what I said. I can take care of them. I kept you and Morticia alive all those years when we were kids and Mom was passed out on the couch. Even if she went psycho when I left, I don’t think I did a bad job. I can do it again. You’ve got school to look out for, and you deserve to not have this fucking family dragging you down all the time.” Tasha gave her hand a squeeze, which Darcy was grateful for, but she couldn’t stand to look the woman in the eyes. 

Melissa gives her an indignant snort. “And what?! Leave you to carry the rest of us on your back just like always? Darce, when are you gonna let go of the guilt? It’s not your fault Mom’s a drunk psycho bitch. We’ve talked about this. This was why you went back to school. You shouldn’t have to do this.” The omega loudly argued. 

Darcy cursed and ran a shaky hand through her hair. Catching a glimpse of Tasha’s intimidatingly blank and considering look. “Look Mel, I love you, but you know I’m right. I’m the one with stable income. Stable house. People they know, who can look after them when I need to leave. It’s not about guilt. It’s about what goddamn needs to happen. It’s about what's best for the twins. Period.” Darcy emphatically argued. 

Mel still looked ready to argue for a moment, but eventually gave a sigh and let her face hit the table. After a second she looked up. “Fine, but you are taking some of the rest of the load off your shoulders. The twins aren’t living with Mom anymore. You don’t need to pay her rent and send her groceries every week to keep them fed. Cut the bitch off and you have a deal. Capisce?” The omega curtly responded, pointing an accusatory finger in Darcy’s face. 

“I’ll think about it. It’s certainly not going to deescalate the Morticia situation though.” Dacy said with a long suffering sigh. An old argument come back again. Darcy took a moment to look at her sister, really look. The exhaustion was beyond evident in her tired body. Muscles shaking, eyelids drooping, posture slumping. The alpha stood up and tugged on her sister’s arm. “Mel, get up. You’re practically dead on your feet. You’re going to go get some sleep or mother hen is going to peck you to death. We’ll sort this out in the morning.” She grumbled good naturedly. 

“Fine, fine big chickie. Show me the way.” The omega responded with a chuckle. 

Darcy had Jarvis direct her to an empty guest room before turning back to Tasha. The spy was still sitting at the table, staring off into space with an unreadable expression on her face. It was unlike the usually composed spy. 

“Penny for your thoughts Tasha?” She queried, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“You...I just...I’m amazed at how put together you are through all of this. I have an idea of how hard it is. When I was being trained...the red room, they took us young. I...I wanted a big sister a bit like you I think. Someone to hold my hand and shield me from the darkness, even just a bit.” Tasha explained, voice breaking as her eyes misted. “That’s...difficult, too difficult for most people to even attempt. I never could, for any of the other girls that trained with me. I can’t imagine how much it must have cost you. You have my respect milaya...and you should know I don’t give that lightly.” The redhead spoke, a shadow across her face and tentative resolve in her voice.

...and that simple declaration caused Darcy to just...break apart. The panic that she’d been barely holding at bay since she got the call reared up and lashed out. Ugly gasping, choking sobs echoed as she rubbed her eyes. The alpha slide down the cupboards and dropped to the floor, hugging herself in the fetal position. Tasha cursed and leaped over, kneeling beside the woman and pulling her into her chest. A keening wail started up as Darcy clutched Tasha. Holding on like a castaway on a piece of driftwood. One piece of strength in the nightmare.

Slowly, the alpha began to settle as Tasha soothingly rubbed between her shoulder blades. “Sorry...fuck, I just...thank you, I should...I should go. You don’t need to deal with my baggage.” Darcy managed to gasp out between hiccuping sobs. Tasha hummed in acknowledgment, but didn’t move, continuing cuddle the distressed alpha. Long minutes passed before Darcy managed to quiet down to just a few sniffles. 

Tasha pulled up the shorter woman's chin to look her in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight Milaya. Come with me to bed, you’ll feel better.” The woman said imploringly before gently pressing a kiss to Darcy’s lips. It was gentle, soft and probably a little gross, what with the tears and snot streaming down the alpha’s face...but it helped a bit of warmth settle into Darcy’s bones. Overcome with emotion, she just managed to nod before the assassin swept her off her feet, bridal style. She squeaked in surprise and buried herself in the strong shoulders of the assassin. Breathing her scent deeply, straight from her neck. 

...and Tasha was right. She did feel quite a bit better. Surrounded by a cocoon of Tasha’s sweet scent and the silky softness of the woman herself things seemed...just a little bit less fucked to hell. 

That was a new thing. A great thing. A better thing that Darcy felt she had any right to have, but not something she could ever see herself pushing away.


	7. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Tasha talk about things some more. Decisions are made. Shower sex is had.

******************************

Tasha curls awake, warm and content at her usual early 6:00am. The spicy, cinnamon laced scent of Darcy curling around her senses like an overly affectionate cat. A rare genuine smile cracks her lips before she turns to look at the still sleepi...Tasha’s eyes widen a barely perceptible amount as she notices the alpha is very much not asleep. Instead, red rimmed eyes are staring at the omega with some tender expression Tasha refuses to analyze. 

The spy internally berates herself for getting too comfortable. If she was at her best she’d have immediately noticed if she was being watched or her bedmate stirred. Grumbling she curses her omega hindbrain for being a damn fool and getting carried away with the care-protection-happiness hormones Darcy is emitting like a damned scented candle. Still though, she can’t complain too hard; They smell delicious. 

“Up long Milaya?” The spy queries, her voice still a touch husky with vanishing sleep.

Darcy smiled, but her eyes were far off and a bit glassy. “More like couldn’t get back to sleep. Old memories. I’m sure you know the drill Tasha.” The woman murmurs. 

Tasha hums in acknowledgment before reaching an arm out. She curls it around the smaller woman's shoulders, pulling her close to pillow her head on Tasha shoulder. The omega pressed a soft kiss into Darcy’s hair, focusing a little to project a scent of calm and understanding. The redhead lets the moment and ensuing silence settle for a few minutes, a warm feeling settling in her bones. 

“Need to talk?” Tasha asks when she feels Darcy start to relax and melt into her fully. She feels Darcy tense momentarily, pushing away just enough so the pair could look fully at each other. The spy watches as a complex series of emotions flash on the alpha’s face. She seems conflicted, unsure if she wants to say anything. Tasha gives her time and space to decide for herself. 

“I just...I thought I wasn’t that little girl anymore. I’ve been out of that house so damn long, I’ve moved on. Gotten stronger...but all it takes is Morticia raising her voice and my stupid fucking brain is back dreaming of hiding with Mel in the closet. God I even tased the bitch and I’m still afraid of her.” Darcy speaks with a quaver in her voice. Her scent turning bitter and sour, a single quiet sob being muffled by Tasha’s breast. 

Tasha buries a hand in the woman’s hair, kissing the soft strands affectionately. The assassin decides against giving the token empty platitudes of safety she knows would be socially expected in the situation.

“Understandable. Those with nothing to lose or no care for the consequences of their actions are dangerous and hard to predict. She had a knife Milaya. All it would have taken was a few moments of inattention and you could have been dead.” The spy explains levelly. Briefly she feels the woman tense for a second. Darcy then looks up at her again, a shaky smile on her face. 

“The most reassuring comment I’ve heard Tasha. You really have a way with your bedside manner.” The woman deadpanned, rolling her eyes fondly. “The thought had crossed my mind though. I just hate the feeling of...helplessness you know? That there’s always gonna be this voice in the back of my head afraid of them? That I’m never going to be safe.” The alpha continued, gaze glancing off into space again. 

Tasha pursed her lips in thought and cuddled the woman a little closer. A thought she’d started to have recently percolating up through her brain, taking firm root. 

“Milaya...what would you say to me giving you some training?” She asked faux nonchalantly.

“You mean like training me to be a super spy or agent or whatever?” Darcy asked with a confused quirk of her brow. 

“Well, I mean, I’ve always had a bit of a fetish for someone choking me out with their thighs. You know, golden rule, do unto others as you would have done unto you.” The omega joked drly. Darcy snorted in amusement for a second as the pair lay there, warm together, happy in the moment. Eventually Tasha let out a breath and turned the mood more sombre. 

“I mostly mean basic self defense. More to be able to break out of holds and run away from danger than actually pick a fight. Though I’d like to do that too so you’re ready if you ever have need of it.” She explained with a shrug. “You have to know I have enemies Darcy. With whatever this is rapidly progressing...they would love to use you against me. Alternatively I have to imagine it would help boost your confidence. It could help give you some reassurance that you can survive your family, knowing you could disarm them if need be.” Tasha explained, voice going low and serious. 

Darcy hummed consideringly and buried her head in the woman’s shoulder, thinking for a second. Eventually the woman looked back and Tasha with a mischievous grin. “Alright Tasha. You’ve convinced me, but I do have one condition though.” She said with a smirk. 

Tasha just gave her the questioning brow arch of doom, breaker of men and spiller of secrets. Darcy giggled in response, which made Tasha click her teeth with a hint of frustration. 

“If were going to get all hot and sweaty together, we need to get clean too. So you’re having showers with me after. Many showers. Hot showers, with groping! And ogling!” Darcy ordered while sternly poking a finger into Tasha’s breast.

Tasha gave her an amused short in response. Shaking her head at the endearing display. “Then we have a contract Milaya.” She agreed with a nod. 

“Awesomesauce! On that note. I’m collecting now!” Darcy said excitedly, hopping out of bed and dragging on Tasha’s arm with a whine. Tasha rolled her eyes at the enthusiasm, but still hopped out of bed and followed along to the bathroom. 

***************************   
What happened a few minutes later in the bathroom was desperate and grasping. An affirmation of life and reconnection to the body and senses of the two women. Signaling that they are still there together, that they still exist, mostly whole and undamaged. That life goes on. 

Darcy had barely shucked her night clothes off before she turned to look at Tasha, still leaning in the doorway. The alpha’s eyes misted as the mirth of the moment faded away. The coldness of the tiled room echoing emotionally. 

Tasha felt her breath whump out of her lungs as a shaky and vulnerable look of longing settled on her alpha’s face. Darcy’s eyes darted to the floor as a faint pleading whine emanated from Darcy’s throat. The alpha’s shoulders hunched with tension. She suppressed the noise and turned away, staring at the wall to avoid Tasha’s gaze for a second. Hiding whatever the pain or anxiety was Tasha surmised. A stilted smile curled Tasha’s lips. Darcy was certainly among good company in the tower. Everyone’s coping strategy was repressing the fuck out of one’s feelings. Not that Tasha was one to throw stones at that endeavor. 

The redhead decided to push into the alpha’s space, wrapping her arms around Darcy’s shoulders. Cooing soft reassurances to her. The alpha melted into her touch, their hands entwining over her breasts. Tasha hummed as she gently kissed under the woman’s ears. Purring as the tension released from her shoulders. Slowly Darcy leant her weight into Tasha, her lower back rubbing against the taller woman’s stomach. 

They swayed there gently for a minute before Tasha decided to push a little more. She gave Darcy an experimental nibble on the neck. Pleased when she got a low groan in response. She purred louder as the delicious musky scent of her alpha spiked with lust. Darcy’s fingers curled into the flesh of Tasha’s forearms as the pressure of her teeth increased. 

Tasha paused momentarily to remove her own clothes and swipe on the shower. She turned back to Darcy to see the alpha once more had an uncertain look on her face. Something clearly on the tip of her tongue, though she couldn’t really guess what. She shot her a questioning look as they waited for the water to heat up. 

“Tasha...you can...no, if you want to...would you bite me?” Darcy asked, a quaver in her voice as the alpha tilted her neck, exposing the bonding glands at the nape of her neck.   
A jolt of surprise shot through Tasha, even as a hot coil of lust settled in her crotch. Her hindbrain screamed at her to accept the offer, even as her brain tugged itself in conflicting directions. “You’re sure?” She managed to force out huskily. 

An omega laying a claiming bite on an alpha was a very different act than vice versa. For whatever reason, claiming bites on alpha’s tended not to last longer than a few months to a year. Whereas for the opposite, the mark would never truly fade. It meant commitment, it meant stability, it meant ownership, it meant bonding. It was essentially marriage, but more permanent.

An omega laying a claiming bite on an alpha was...more conditional. It wasn’t unheard of but most alpha’s tended to think of it more as aggressive pawing than anything else. A playful puppy getting nippy rather than something serious. Tasha thought more favorably of them. It was fucking hot and felt amazing for both parties. Plus the idea of having to reaffirm the connection made them more...purposeful. Which had its own appeal to a woman who’d lived with nothing but lies and half truths for decades. There was no doubt that alpha’s with such marks wanted them, and only kept them as long as they still wanted them. 

Darcy nodded enthusiastically to her, croaking out an affirmative grunt before showing her neck again. “I, uh, I was thinking. I know it’s...a bit sudden. But I think I want this to be a thing. Maybe not a thing forever, or an exclusive thing. But a good thing nonetheless. I want it, uh...if you do? Oh god I hope I’m not overstepping.I’m being an idiot aren’t I?” The alpha nervously explained, pillowing her head in her hands. 

Tasha’s hindbrain slapped her upside the head and in a flash of movement the spy had Darcy pressed face first against the tile of the shower. The alpha gave an adorable yelp of surprise. Water streamed over the skin of the pair as Tasha growled loudly. “Agreed. Now, remember to use your safe words if you need to, my cute little bitch.” She rumbled into Darcy’s ear, her voice turning harsh and ragged. Darcy gave a brief moan in response before pushing her ass out to grind against Tasha’s crotch. 

Tasha groaned in response as she gave Darcy’s plush rear a playful squeeze. Leaning forward, she nipped a small bruise under the alpha’s ear while her hand reached out for some supplies. Backup plans for backup plans meant the shower was fully stocked with a bottle of high quality waterproof silicone lube. One hand kept Darcy’s cutely squirming body pressed against the tile while she awkwardly slicked the fingers of the other up. 

Tasha reached her hand around Darcy’s body, stroking the alpha’s rapidly hardening clit. “Now slut, what do you say?” She cooed mischievously, circling her slicked hand against Darcy’s asshole. 

Darcy let loose a low moan, pumping her hips gently into Tasha’s grip as her hands curled against the wall. “P-please? Please fuck me?” The woman asked with a strained but joking tone. 

Tasha responded by shifting her gentle, passive grip of Darcy’s clit to a cruel one. Sharp nails clawed into the tender flesh, lightly crushing her tender, dangling orbs. “Please fuck me what, whore?” The spy spat with a harsh growl. She resisted the squeal of mischievous glee that was threatening to burst from her throat. God, she loved setting cute little sluts up to seal their own doom. 

Darcy shuddered and squealed against the wall, the scent in the shower spiking yet higher. Tasha felt hot slick starting to drip down her legs as the alpha struggled to speak under her ministrations. “Please fuck me mistress?” Darcy said with a groan, her voice going ragged and raw. 

Tasha smirked before slapping Darcy’s painfully hard shaft, smirking as the alpha gasped. “It’s Ma’am in the bedroom, slut.” The redhead ordered. She licked her lip as drops of pre-cum started oozing from Darcy’s throbbing clit.

“Heeeey, you didn’t tell me that before Tasha!! Unfair!! How can I be expected to follow rules wh-” Tasha cut the jokingly indignant protests of the alpha off by tightening her squeeze on the woman’s orbs. A loud squeal of pain echoed through the bathroom as a cheshire grin split the spy’s face. 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be such a little shit while I have your balls literally in my hands Milaya?” Tasha said with an indulgent smile on her face. 

“No Ma’am. Bad Idea Ma’am. Sorry Ma’am. (Probably) won’t happen again Ma’am...at least today.” Darcy agreed with a mock serious tone. 

Tasha responded by slipping a slick finger into the alpha’s ass, pleased at the low groan Darcy emitted in response. Slowly sliding in and opening up the woman’s muscles. 

“Just for that my little whore, you’re not going to be touching yourself at all today. I’m going to fuck you into this goddamn wall, bite your neck and jerk myself off to your goddamn moans. You’re going to stand there, begging and whining for more. Not because you’re tied up or I’m holding you down...but because you’re a wanton little degenerate who gets off on it. Because that’s what you want bitch.” Tasha growled, adding a second finger to Darcy’s ass and starting to slowly pump into the woman. 

Darcy groaned, long and low as a pleased shiver ran through the alpha’s body. “Yes Ma’am.” She responded quietly, a hint of wonder in her tone. Slowly the alpha began to grind her ass against Tasha’s hand. Little mewls and panting moans escaping her throat. 

Tasha grinned, adding a third finger and smirking at the moan that elicited. Her other hand gave Darcy’s ample breasts a squeeze before snaking down to her own sex. Her nimble fingers circled her clit, stoking the fire in her belly higher and higher. She leaned in close, pressing her breasts to the womans back. Tasha let her soft, pleased moans rumble directly into the other woman’s ear. Her crotch clenched with heat at the desperate whine that caused the alpha to emit. 

Darcy began to buck against Tasha’s hands harder, arching her feet up to get a better angle as she shoved her fingers into her ass. Darcy started taking panting breaths at the effort of fucking herself on Tasha’s fist. Grinning Tasha pressed a fourth finger to the alpha’s hole. It was tight, but the satisfied groan of the alpha as Tasha’s fingers disappeared into her was beyond worth every second of momentary discomfort.

“Look what we have here Milaya. Little fucking anal slut, totally fucking disappearing most of my fucking hand. Have you no shame bitch, or does that just turn you on more?” Tasha said with a rumbling laugh. Darcy mewled, her clit twitching, turning a deeper shade of red as the woman gave a harsh affirmative noise.

Tasha growled, crooking her fingers, looking for that magic spot inside of Darcy. When the woman started yowling and begging incoherently she figured she had it. Tasha smirked, slowly sliding her fingers in and out of the woman’s soft, clenching ass. The assassin purred and gloated on the feeling of absolute control as she watched the alpha fall utterly apart under her fingertips. Heat boiled in her clenching cunt. Practically ready to explode over the sight of Darcy begging, helpless against the wall as Tasha’s stretched her. 

Leaning close, Tasha started peppering urgent little bites and nibbles along Darcy’s neck. She upped the pace urgently, hands flying over her own clit and pounding into Darcy’s ass. Her tongue flashed out, laving the glands at the nape of Darcy’s neck with her tongue. Darcy started shaking and shivering, her pleading whines reaching a crescendo and echoing through the room. 

Just as Tasha felt her orgasm looming, unable to be denied any longer, Tasha let her jaw open to bite down on the glands at Darcy’s neck. She started slow, a gentle pressure, just beside Jane’s bite, as pheromones started to swirl and mix. Darcy alternated between pleased purring and desperate yowling, her body quivering involuntarily. As Tasha increased the force of her bite, harder and harder the alpha squealed in a confused mix of pain and pleasure. 

The spy felt her teeth break the skin as a gigantic wave of scent, pheromones and lust collided with her brain in response. Her vision whited out and her muscles spasmed. Coiled together, Darcy and Tasha quivered in pleasure as their orgasms slammed into them. Tasha’s slick sprayed down her legs and across the floor, while the alpha painted the wall with her cum. Incoherent grunts passed their lips, neither entirely sure who was which for a moment. They sagged to the floor, neither in control of their bodies to any degree. 

It took several long minutes, panting under the hot spray of water before the duo felt themselves start to be aware of their own bodies again. Tasha gave Darcy a curious sniff, a pleased purr rumbling in her throat as she noted her own sweeter scent entwining around Darcy’s underlying base scent. Till the bond-bite faded the alpha would always smell just a little like Tasha and vice versa. It was a lovely combination of sugar, cinnamon and spices. 

Predictably, it was Darcy who spoke first. 

“Holy shit, goddamn, mothertruckin jesus cthulu christ on a bike that was fucking hot. Tasha! Tasha!! You smell like me, it’s awesome!!!” Darcy spoke with an excited squeal, clinging to the omega like an octopus. 

Tasha felt a dopey grin parting her lips. A distant part of her, still hung up on protocol and training, wanted to hide it. Honestly though, she just really couldn’t bring herself to care, swimming high on pleasure chemicals as she was.

“Indeed it was. We still have to get clean again though, and make breakfast, and check on the twins, and don’t think this means you’re getting out of training Milaya.” Tasha listed with a smirk as an adorable pout settled on Darcy’s face.

“Meanie. Forcing me to be an adult and shit again. Some kinda loving partner you are.” Darcy said with an indignant huff. The pair stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter and pulling each other up into a gentle kiss.


	8. Breakfast with the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy, Tasha and the Twins have breakfast. Tasha gets owned by a six year old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF, FLUFF, ALL OF THE FLUFF!!!
> 
> (also, yurr, back to this story after a brief break wew! I got distrac by all the other shiny objects, stories and fun things to do)

**********************************

Picking themselves up off the shower, Tasha and Darcy move to get dressed for the day. Jarvis having made Darcy aware that the twins were getting up. Darcy briefly had to slip out to her own apartment to grab a change of clothes. The brunette snickered at the faintly amused look and hint of a smirk on the omega’s lips when the alpha came back into Tasha’s apartment. 

Darcy had changed into her smoothest, most comfy pair of ratty old loose fitting jeans. She paired it with her favorite thick white sweater. It was squishy, warm and just smelt like comfort and home, which she badly needed. Darcy wasn’t a total lazy slob that morning though. She did at least get her hair combed out, soft waves spilling over her shoulders. She also put on a lovely silver necklace with an intricate amethyst pendant to add a splash of color. 

“What’s the look for?” Darcy said with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous smirk. 

Tasha chucked under her breath before giving a bit of a sigh. Oh yeah. Darcy knew that one. That was the long suffering affectionate sigh the spy gave Clint all the goddamn time. The sigh that was practically the spy’s way of saying “I love you, even if I have to put up with you, you goddamn adorable idiot.” And it was turned on her now. Darcy felt her stomach flutter happily at the thought. 

“Milaya. You know I would never deign to tell anyone, much less my clothing designer girlfriend how to dress.” Tasha said impassively. 

“But?” Darcy asked, a shit eating grin on her face. 

“But those pants are atrocious. I have no doubt they are comfortable, but you could find such comfort in a pair that actually fits you. And hasn’t been sent through a thresher.” The spy hurriedly finished, sending the offending garment a glare. 

“Ahhh, I see, I see. My girlfriend just wants to ogle my butt all the time. Maybe bend me over the kitchen table and cop a feel while I cook breakfast in the common room. Maybe I should change?” Darcy joked with a giggle. 

Only, she saw Tasha’s eyes very visibly dilate, a rush of blood heating the spy’s face. The musky scent of lust wafting through the air as her stare bored into the alpha. Darcy gulped a little, feeling her body rush to respond. Still though, responsible adult and the twins need feeding. Bad Darcy. 

“Right, well, uhm, we should...we should probably get going and make breakfast. I mean, if you have something that might fit me better I could change quickly, but I don’t have time to head back to my apar-” Darcy awkwardly explained before Tasha sprung into action. 

Tasha leaned in and kissed Darcy, long, low and full of passion. The alpha’s head fuzzed and her awareness of her surroundings dimmed just slightly. The spy’s deft hands scrabbled at the button of Darcy’s jeans. In seconds they were popped open and dropped to the floor. With a flash Tasha disappeared back into the bedroom, coming back to a still dazed Darcy with a pair of black skinny jeans in hand. 

Tasha had a cheshire grin on her face as she handed them over. Darcy stumbled over herself to slip them on over her legs and...very enthusiastic lower member. Still, she did get them on and they fit like an absolute glove. Form fitting, yet still pretty comfy all things considered. Maybe not as comfy as her favorite worn in jeans, but nice nonetheless. Oh, and they smell like Tasha since they’d been in her closet for awhile, so that’s a huge plus. She’s verrrrry much in favor of that. 

“How in the frackin hell did you know my size so precisely Tasha?” The alpha says with a scoff.

“A magician never reveals her secrets my dear.” Tasha responded sagely as the pair made their way down to the common room. 

*******************************************  
By the time the pair actually made it down to the common room Thor had already gotten the twins seated at the kitchen bar. Tilly and Turner were each sucking back a glass of orange juice happily while the god regaled them with stories of his adventures. There was much giggling and excitement on both sides as the kids oohed and awed along. A gaggle of the other avengers were situated around the room, positively bug eyed and staring at the sight of Thor minding kids so tenderly. 

Mel on the other hand was hovering over the coffee maker, staring blearily at it. She very pointedly hit a button and grumbled under her breath when no coffee was dispensed. Darcy made a point to give the woman a big hug as she came into the kitchen, ducking away from the expected elbow in retaliation for affection before coffee. She snorted at the grumbling complaints the woman gave her. Ruffling Mel’s hair she reached over her shoulder and punched the appropriate button to start the machine.

Turning around, Darcy motioned for Tasha to sit beside Tilly as she greeted the twins. She swung an arm over both of their shoulders and gave them both a big hug. Thor paused his story to smile, warm and bright at the pair. He flashed a broad grin to Jane who was still waking up with her coffee on the couch. 

“Hey my little doves. How are you doing today? Want to make some pancakes?” Darcy cooed, grinning at the excited nods she got in response. The alpha wandered around the breakfast bar to the stove, dragging an extra stool to sit beside the spacious stovetop. Turner hopped down from his seat, following along to sit in the stool beside her. Tilly walked off to get more drinks from the fridge and help Thor set the table. 

Darcy grabbed a series of frypans out and set them on the stove, starting to preheat them. She spun through the kitchen grabbing a series of large mixing bowls as well as various ingredients from the fridge and pantry. She and Turner split the job, flitting around each other with the ease of practiced familiarity. She did the harder work of stirring as Turner measured out the ingredients from memory. Darcy eventually took control over more of it when the pancakes were frying. She wanted to make sure he didn’t burn himself. 

Twenty minutes later Darcy set stacks of chocolate chip, blueberry, cinnamon and peanut butter pancakes down on the kitchen bar. She added a few bowls of fresh fruit from the fridge as well. They all served themselves. Thor grabbed a massive stack of cinnamon just for himself (and probably going back for seconds after) that was easily twice what Tasha and Darcy herself took. Darcy frowned as Tilly and Turner each very politely grabbed only a single large pancake each.

“You know, doves, it’s totally okay to grab more, look at Thor. He’s a freaking black hole, we need to grab as many pancakes as we can before he eats them all!” Darcy joked with a grin. 

The twins momentarily looked aghast before they covered it up again behind a blank look. Tasha and Darcy shared a quick look, the spy having obviously caught it. Darcy wanted to howl and curse, realizing the confusion. She settled for the much more productive action of flicking Turner another of his favorite blueberry pancakes and Tilly one of her chocolate chips. 

“Don’t worry sweethearts, we’ll make as many more as we need to. I was only joking. Have as much as you want.” Darcy reassured, smiling as they brightened again and dug in with gusto. Darcy and Tasha joined in. 

20 minutes later, breakfast was going well. Aside from a little hushed whispering, the team had kept a respectful distance. Even Tony. The billionaire had just stopped in long enough to do a double take when he saw Tasha eating breakfast with the kids. He scurried off to sit with his tablet and coffee seconds later. Mel even looked brighter as the coffee woke her up and she got something in her stomach. 

Eventually though, Tilly finished her meal, licking up some leftover chocolate and syrup on her plate. She turned to glare at the spy sitting beside her. “So.” She said, pausing dramatically as she put her hands together and took in Tasha. The effect was only minorly ruined by a smear of melted chocolate on her cheek. 

Tasha merely gave the six year old a questioning quirk of her brow. Looking on impassively. An audible hush fell out of the room as most of the rest of the adults panicked and considered whether or not they had to intervene. 

Darcy merely hid a smirk behind her hands. 

“You smell like auntie. You didn’t yesterday.” Tilly grumbles out seriously. 

“Correct.” Tasha says with a shrug before returning to the brow quirk of doom. 

Tilly tries to quirk her own brow in imitation of the woman. It’s not totally successful at being intimidating, but it is VERY successful at being adorable. Darcy has to stop herself from snickering at this point. 

To her credit, there is not one second where Tilly wavers under Tasha’s stare. Where grown men and trained agents have literally pissed themselves in fear, the blonde, blue-eyed six year old just waits patiently. Mel looks faintly horrified beside her, definitely worried for her sister. 

Tasha eventually nods in respect. “Your auntie and I are together. We made it official last night.” She explains pleasantly, trying to let the tension of the moment go. 

“And whats do you intend?” Tilly barks, a bit of a lisp coming out, as is common when she gets nervous or excited. The small alpha girl leaning forward as a bit of a growl escapes her throat. 

Tasha looks momentarily taken aback. Nervousness and shock flitting over her features almost imperceptibly before they are hidden behind a blank mask. “What do you mean by that?” She asks.

“If you’re going to hurts her, I gotsta get Uncle Thor to s-smite you with hiz magic hammer. Do I need to?” Tilly growled. At this point Darcy is pillowing her head in her hands, shaking with silent laughter. The rest of the onlookers are just stunned. Clint in particularly looks on with transparent awe on his face. 

Tasha’s eyes soften, her voice lowering. “I will do everything in my power to never intentionally hurt Darcy L'venok (little lion). And I will do all I can to keep her safe from anyone else that might try to harm her.” The spy reassures emphatically, her voice full of affection. Darcy has a feeling of warmth wash over her at the declaration. Especially as a lovely swirl of protection-love-safe hormones fill the room. 

Tilly nods quite seriously, thinking for a second. “What’s your name then?” The child asks. 

“That’s Tasha little dove.” Darcy interjects, stifling her chuckles.

Tilly lets a broad, happy grin spread across her face. The little six year old reaches out her little arms and wraps Tasha into a hug. The spy’s eyes bulge and mouth gapes with shock like a fish. After a second Tilly looks up at the spy and giggles. “Okay! Auntie Tash, wanna go play leggo with me? Uncle Thor has a super cool death star kit back on his floor and I wanna finish it today!” The blonde asks with an excited squeal. 

Tasha gives the barest nod, looking supremely overwhelmed by the bundle of energy that is the tiny alpha. The room holds its breath as they leave, a pregnant silence settling in for a few seconds. Still, nobody can actually hold it back. Darcy’s pretty sure Tasha’s gonna hear and plot her revenge as the entire room bursts in long uproarious laughter. 

Worth it.


	9. Arts and Crafts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Darcy hang out with the twins and get settled into the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is not dead, it's just resting!

***************************************  
Darcy was feeling oh so very happy. Warm, relaxed and floating like a glass of hot apple cider over the holidays. More than a week had passed since the twins came to the tower. In her usual rush of manic productive energy she’d made great progress at slotting the kids into their new living situation. They’d been transferred to a nice cushy private school (with security who’d been instructed never to release the kids without a very specific password, suck on that Morticia) gotten their checkups, gotten them a shared bedroom (the scent of each other helped the twins sleep) and managed to paint and decorate it to make it a bit homier.

Tony, for all his overzealous alpha provider pomp, really just didn’t know how to make a space comfortable for a bunch of lower income kids. The tasteful cream colors and fancy tech out of a sci-fi movie was more than a little intimidating. Before Darcy had had a chance to swing by a walmart for some stuffies and toys Turner had practically huddled in a corner, afraid to break anything.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tasha’s connection with the twins seemed to be blossoming under their attentions. With so much upheaval in their lives, the twins were constantly on the lookout for things that felt familiar and safe. Little islands of stability to cling to in the chaos that had overtaken them. For years, that island had mostly been Darcy (Mel was more the cool Aunt you had fun with than the one who made it better when shit got bad). The combination of Darcy’s familiar scent clinging to the spy, and Tasha’s cool confidence and assurance seemed to just scream safety to them. It was beyond adorable how the pair followed her around like a pair of lost ducklings whenever Darcy had to step out for work. 

What was even more adorable was how Natasha herself had started to positively glow as she helped take care of them. Darcy constantly had to bite her lip to hold in the adoring snickers when seemingly arbitrary soft gushy smiles seemed spring up on the spy all the time. Like when she was helping Tilly plot out the fortifications on her lego evil lair. Or when she was mediating the debate as Turner held a referendum among his fast growing collective of stuffed animals on which night of the week should be pizza night. Or especially when the spy turned on a playlist of old disney movies and each twin took a side of the woman to cuddle into.

Though, Darcy, not being born yesterday, absolutely did not miss the little safety lessons Natasha seemed to effortlessly wedge in to all the fun. The spy had obviously decided that giving the twins the skills to take care of themselves had become one of her top priorities. So, she subtly taught and guided them towards a series of practical skills. Often without the twins even being aware of it. She brought the twins into more advanced cooking sessions, helping them learn to make a variety of healthy and simple meals. She idly gave Tilly little self defense tips like “you know, if anybody is mean to you or tries to take you away, you can bite right here and it’ll hurt real bad so they drop you.” The spy had even made fun games around teaching the kids emergency procedures (save clumsy Mr. Bear after he falls down was a particular favorite, the kids got candy if they performed first aid properly after all). 

Darcy wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. However the twins seemed to enjoy hanging out with auntie Tasha and the spy seemed less antsy when she knew they could take care of themselves. So, honestly, it was probably fine. Tasha had even mentioned how she happy she was to have another chance to help provide for the twins. Like she hadn’t been able to help the other girls in the red room. Plus, everything was suitably phrased in age appropriate ways and Darcy’s sure there’s some psych papers on the benefit of giving abuse survivors a feeling of independence and agency.

Which is not to say the week was absolutely perfect. Work was busy as always, and Darcy was hard at work sketching out new dress designs for next season. The chaos of the twins arriving had thrown off her rhythm and now she was playing catch up. She’d honestly not had nearly enough time to actually spend with the twins. Often Darcy would just bring her tablet and sketchbook to the common room while Tasha and the twins got to play and do all the fun stuff (and okay, the brunette was woman enough to admit she was kinda maybe, super jealous about that, but whatevs, no ones fault, its fine).

Plus, at some point, the nosy nellies of the team absolutely haaaaad to stick their “concerned” noses all up in her business. Sam in particular had been pushing particularly strongly that Darcy and the twins should probably talk to someone. He’d been gracious enough (the beta was honestly sweet as a cinnamon roll) not to suggest himself, but Darcy was still quite leery. 

See, it’s not that she was totally against counselling or therapy. She’d been a bunch of times in college, but never to more than one session. It seemed the prevailing wisdom was that alpha survivors of abuse tended to withdraw into themselves and avoid the casual sort of posturing Darcy hated. She’d go to talk about her nightmares or panic attacks but the damn fool therapists had totally ignored her concerns. Instead they invariably chose to focus on how she wasn’t doing “alpha” interpersonal relationships right. Trying to “fix” the “unhealthy” behaviors she’d developed as a result of the abuse. Sam hadn’t exactly said that’s what he thought the problem was, but it seemed heavily implied from his opening comment: “You know, I’ve seen all sorts of studies around how survivors of childhood abuse have a hard time asserting themselves.”

...which, no, fuck off cunts. That’s getting the fucking thing backwards. Not that the alpha ever really mentioned it to anyone (cause, holy shit is it not something she wants to talk about, or hell, even think about) but the whole mess started after her dad left when she was 5. Darcy had always been very polite, pleasant and avoided confrontation as a rule even as a child. Preferring to play more beta oriented or even omega appropriate games and activities. The fucker didn’t want to deal with a “sissy runt of an alpha” and Mom was never able to let it go. Cue the drinking and shouting and...other things.

So yeah, she’s not proud but Darcy had had to bite her lip to avoid yelling at Sam to go fuck himself. She had to repeatedly tell herself he was really being perfectly polite, just out of his depth. Man worked with veterans, his child and queer psychology training was woefully out of date. She’d politely but cooly rejected his offer and thanked him before turning pointedly back to her sketching.

That is, until an adorable little one flopped themselves onto the couch beside where Darcy was working. 

“Whatcha workin on auntie?” Turner asked curiously, craning over to poke his nose into the sketchbook she was drawing on. The sketch was full of bold colours and strong lines, showcasing a feminine form clad in a flowing dress. Turner’s eyes seemed to go wide and a bit adoring as he took it in.

“Hey there little dove. I’m just throwing around a few rough ideas for some fancy dresses. Our new season is coming up and auntie has gotta really impress the big wigs at work.” Darcy explained adoringly, taking a second to give the omega a quick little hug. 

“It’s super pretty!” Turner squealed, a big smile practically beaming off his face. His whole body language opened up, looking increasingly excited. 

“Dawwwww, thanks sweetheart.” Darcy cooed back, a big stupid grin on her face. Turning back to her work she started on fleshing out a few details, even as she noticed Turner shifting around beside her. Unsure what was going on with him, she waited for him to speak up. Whatever it was seemed not to be really dying down, even after a few minutes. Concerned, she flashed a look to Tasha who seemed to be studying the scene with great interest. An intent frown on her face. 

“Turner...did you really like the dress?” Tasha asked quietly, low like one might ask a frightened animal. 

“...yeah.” Turner replied quietly, sounding hesitant. His scent practically screaming fearful distress. Every instinct Darcy had went on full alert as she looked him over. Thinking hard for an answer she practically facepalmed when she thought of what it might be.

“Little dove, did you maybe want a dress of your own?” Darcy asked Turner sweetly, leaning down to his level. 

“N-no, of course not…” The boy said, his scent screaming a toxic combination of embarrassment and shame. The brunette’s heart broke, just a little, at that. 

See, it’s not like it was completely unheard of for male omegas to wear feminine clothes. It would certainly be out of the ordinary, but it did happen occasionally in the media. It wasn’t the...most stigmatized thing in world, but certainly wasn’t approved of by and large. Darcy knew though, that anything even vaguely queer got her mother ranting and raving. She could only imagine how often Turner had heard an earful on the subject.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay...nobody here is going to judge you if you do. I’m not going to pressure you one way or the other, but I support whatever you want, 100%” The alpha implored, grateful when Natasha stepped up behind her to offer her support with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Mom...mom said that was queer, and that queer people go to hell with all the other bad people.” Turner said with a defeated whimper. 

Both Tasha and Darcy bristled at that, the alpha violently repressing the roaring growl she could feel threatening to rip out her throat. Getting growly and scowly was not a productive way for helping a distressed and shamed omega she thought, scolding her stupid alpha hindbrain. Carefully, she schooled her voice to be as level as possible, even if she wasn’t entirely successful at projecting calmness. 

“Turner...that’s not...okay, let's put it this way. Do you think I or auntie Nat are bad people?” The alpha asked, trying to help the omega think it through on his own. 

“No, of course not! You’re the bestest, most kind people ever!” Turner barked, his head whipping up. His face was pale, likely assuming he’d made some sort of grave, punishment worthy mistake. Darcy’s eyes burned as she hurried to reassure the child by wrapping an arm around him and giving him a big hug. 

“I just want you to know, auntie Nat and I, us being together makes us queer. We don’t think that’s a bad thing, and we don’t think we’re doing anything wrong. If you… if you are queer, or want to wear a dress just because or anything else, we don’t think it’s wrong. You’re not hurting anybody, and we don’t think you’d go to hell.” Darcy explained, keeping her voice as low and even as possible. She did not want to shout at him, wanting him to make up his own mind. 

Turner’s eyes widened, and surprise sprang all over his face. His scent started turning around, becoming less embarrassed and more surprised, confused and so very, heartbreakingly hopeful. “B-but, but mom said!” He shouted, slamming a little fist in his lap. And yup, that did it, the burning in her eyes was turning into full on silent tears now. The brunette wiped them away as subtly as possible. 

“Honey… I hate that you have to learn this as young as you do, but mom’s...don’t know everything. They can be wrong, often are. Try and listen to them and hear what they say, but eventually...you have to make up your own mind.” The alpha explained, soothingly rubbing the omega’s back as a series of quiet sobs racked his small form. Darcy looked up and away, overcome, only to catch the eye of Natasha and Tilly. The spy and girl shot Darcy a look and moved to sit and cuddle in beside Turner. Offering silent support. 

After a few minutes, once Turner had calmed down, Darcy decided to flip open her sketchbook to a new page. In a few rough strokes she drew out a rough sketch of a young boy. “Hey little dove...You know it’s my job to make pretty dresses that make people happy right?” She asked, pausing for the omega to nod his acknowledgement. 

“Okay, so here’s what we're going to do. I’m going to draw a pretty dress. You’ll tell me if you like what I’m drawing, or think it could be prettier another way. I’m going to do this for work anyway, so it’s not putting me out. When I’m done...I’ll make a copy of it in your size. You can do what you want with it. Is that okay?” Darcy explained, looking plaintively at the omega. Turner nodded hesitantly, his scent excited, but not as fearful as it was before. He practically squirmed in his seat, clearly trying to stay still and quiet. 

Silently Darcy got started, outlining the floofiest, most ugly horrible frilly princess dress in a gauche pink. Mostly just to give them some space to refine and move towards something better. After a few minutes the rough silhouette came into focus. Darcy nudged Turner and shot him a mischievous grin. 

“What do you think little dove, is the it the prettiest dress to ever be made?” The brunette asked.

Turner looked unsure, yet like he really had something he desperately wanted to say at the tip of his tongue. He was sitting on his hands, practically vibrating with the effort of not saying something insulting. Natasha gave his hand a comforting squeeze, whispering “Go on zaychik (bunny)” into his hair.

“It...It’s too puffy! And pink is dumb!” He eventually blurted, before slapping his hands over his mouth in shock. Looking for all the world like all he wanted to do was take back his outburst.

Darcy only grinned, broad and bright and as encouraging as she could make it. “Oh, you’re totally right! Let's make it a bit slimmer then, and do you have a favorite color?” Darcy asked, not giving Turner a second to doubt himself again.

“Red’s pretty, and white as well.” He said, even as Darcy started erasing and redoing her sketch. Once she’d redrawn the form of the dress and made sure it got Turner’s approval (turns out a simple sundress seemed to meet his tastes) she started asking a barrage of questions about little details here and there 

“How do you feel about the frilly lace bits then?” She asked levelly. Chortling when Turner made the most adorable ick face.

“Should the sleeves be a bit longer then?” Darcy queried, nodding along when Turner said he thought they’d get in the way while playing then. 

“How do you feel about flowers for the pattern then?” Darcy inquired, going with classic sundress fare. 

“Flowers are boooooring.” Turner huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting adorably. 

“What do you like then? What’s cute? Favorite Disney character?” She asked.

Turner paused, putting a finger over his mouth as he considered the question. Hmming and hawing in what Darcy thought was the cutest way possible (though admittedly, she’s biased as hell).

“Robo-kitties?” He finally settled on. Darcy laughed, agreeing that it sounded like an awesomely cute idea. Though she said it wasn’t likely the pattern was already made so they’d have to draw it themselves. Turner frowned, before reaching for the pencil and starting to scratch away on his own. Darcy started giving him tips on how to hold the pencil and different approaches to shade and fill his drawing in. It as certainly pretty rough, but Darcy beamed at the latent talent that he displayed. 

Less than two hours and a short talk with Jarvis later, a rush ordered spool of fabric was delivered up to Darcy’s suite. The small family disappeared into the working studio to play with different stencils and stitches for the evening. 

And less than 24 hours after that Darcy and Natasha were glaring pointedly at Tony. The straight up murder face making him rethink making an comment or joke when Turner showed up to breakfast in the most adorable and badass robo-kitty dress ever.


End file.
